A Baby for the Flying Doctor (3 page)

‘All the better to infuse your mouth with flavours?’ she asked.

Gil chuckled and the warmth of the sound washed over her. ‘Something like that.’

‘Black is fine.’ Phemie took a sip and tried not to make a face. ‘What sort of tea is this?’ She’d been expecting plain black, not slightly flavoured.

‘Earl Grey. Don’t like it?’

‘It tastes like dishwater.’

‘Is that so? Well, as I am not a connoisseur of dishwater, I can’t cast a vote on your assessment. Do you drink it often? Dishwater, I mean.’

Phemie laughed. ‘Can’t say that I do, although where I live, running water is considered a luxury so if anything gets into our water tanks, it can taste pretty gross.’

‘So you don’t infuse your mouth with the flavours from the washing-up water?’

She shook her head and laughed again. He was handsome. He was polite and now he was bringing out humour. Lethal combination.

‘Tell me, then, Dr Grainger, what sort of tea do you usually drink?’

‘Australian, of course. It’s rich, full bodied and there’s plenty of it.’

The light in Gil’s eyes twinkled as their gazes held. Was she not only describing the essence of Australia but the essence of Euphemia Grainger? ‘I’m intrigued. Sounds like something I should experience whilst I’m in your country.’

‘I think you should.’ Why did she get the feeling they were having two completely different conversations? There was a light in his eyes, one that made her heart rate instantly increase.

‘It’s settled, then.’

‘What is?’ Confusion creased her brow.

‘That you’ll meet me in the conference hotel lobby at the end of the first day’s sessions to treat me to a rich, full-bodied Australian experience.’

Was he still talking about tea? ‘In Sydney?’

‘They don’t drink tea in Sydney?’

‘Yes. Of course they do. Sorry.’ She was still coming to terms with the fact that Gil was more than happy to spend time with her at the conference…in a personal capacity. ‘I’m not sure I remember where a good tea house is in Sydney. It’s been a while since I was there.’

The train jolted a little and Gil rocked forward towards her but there he stayed, his face close, his words a little more intimate than before. ‘Then we shall have to explore together.’

Phemie held her breath, her gaze flicking to his mouth, then back to his eyes, a strange warmth settling over her. The moment grew more intense when Gil visually caressed her lips. Her heart started pounding wildly in her chest, not from fright or uncertainty but from pure attraction—such as she’d never felt before.

Her lips parted to allow the pent-up air to escape. On a personal level, she knew next to nothing about this man and he knew next to nothing about her, yet there seemed to be something new, something exciting brewing between them…and it wasn’t the dishwater-tasting tea.

‘Euphemia.’ Her name was a caress on his lips and for one heart-stopping second she thought he might continue his journey towards her and actually kiss her. She closed her eyes, trying to control her thoughts, her breathing, but all she could think about was how, at this second in time, she wanted to be free, to let go, to break all the rules and regulations she’d previously set down for her life.

She
wanted
him to kiss her.
Wanted
to know what it would be like.
Wanted
to feel the touch of his mouth against hers. It was ludicrous. It was impossible. It was what she wanted.

The next thing she knew, there was a loud screeching noise and she was thrown to the floor, landing hard with a heavy thud. She could feel firm hands on her upper arms and then she was somehow hauled against firm male chest as they started to slide along the floor of the carriage.

The train was stopping—and it was stopping at a rapid rate.

P
EOPLE
were screaming, yelling. The scent of panic was in the air. A baby cried. The screeching noise continued. As the train came to a halt, all Phemie was conscious of was Gil and the way he’d automatically protected her, his body taking the brunt of the impact as they slid into the bolted-down lounge chairs opposite to where they’d previously been sitting.

When they finally stopped, it took a second for rational thought to return.

‘Are you all right?’ His voice was soft near her ear but full of concern.

‘Hmm?’ She opened her eyes, looking into those gorgeous brown depths which had hypnotised her earlier. She was lying in his arms, their bodies so close together she was positive he could hear her heart pounding wildly against her chest. The main question was whether it was pounding so badly due to the surprise of the train stopping or because she was in his arms?

‘Euphemia!’ His voice became louder and she saw the worried look in his eyes.

‘Yes?’

‘Are you hurt? Bruised? Can you stand?’ As he spoke, he felt her head and down her arms. How could she—a trained medical professional—be more concerned with her reaction to this perfect stranger than the train accident? What was wrong with her?

‘I’m fine.’ And she wasn’t sure she liked him touching her, simply because it caused a mass of tingles to flood her entire body and explode like fireworks. She shifted but it appeared he wasn’t ready to move away just yet. ‘I’m fine,’ she reiterated. ‘I’m OK. You? You hit that lounge pretty hard.’

Phemie touched his shoulder but on feeling the firm muscle realised her touch was anything but medical. Bad. It was bad. He was
Professor Gilbert Fitzwilliam
! She wasn’t supposed to have an instant attraction to this man. He was a medical genius. He was a research phenomenon and he lived on the other side of the world. Apart from that, Phemie was most certainly not looking for any sort of romantic relationship. Not now. Not ever.

‘I’ll live.’ Gil carefully stood, holding out a hand to help Phemie up. The sooner he put some distance between them the better. Having that gorgeous, petite body of hers pressed hard against his was something he hadn’t expected to experience but now he had, he couldn’t help his mounting intrigue for this woman.

Once she was on her feet, he let her go. Distance. He needed distance from her. He was so intent on moving away he almost stood on his Thermos, which had rolled to the floor. He quickly picked it up and placed it on a chair. ‘Someone’s pulled the emergency stop handle.’

‘Agreed.’ Phemie brushed herself down, straightening her clothes, pleased there was now space between them. She dragged in a few breaths to focus herself. ‘Emergency stop means—’

‘Something has gone wrong. No doubt medical assistance will be required.’ He headed for the carriage door. ‘I’ll find a steward then hopefully we’ll know what’s going on. Stay here and ensure everyone in this carriage is all right.’ With that, he opened the weighted door. Phemie watched him go, liking the way he walked—sure and firm and with purpose.

As soon as he was out of sight, her brain clicked immediately into medical mode and she went to help the other lounge-car passengers.
There were a few bumps, a few bruises and scratches but for the most part everyone seemed fine, just very shaken. One man was more concerned about his computer than anything else. Everyone had questions but Phemie didn’t have any answers.

She had just finished checking the pulse of a three-year-old boy, snuggled into his mother’s arms, his cries having settled somewhat, when Gil strode back into the carriage, two stewards and a guard following him. One of the stewards carried a large medical kit.

‘Dr Grainger. You’re needed. This way.’ His tone was as brisk as his strides and realising she was seeing the
Professor
in all his professional glory, Phemie excused herself from the young mother and followed the men.

‘Apparently, there’s been an incident a few carriages down.’ Gil spoke softly yet clearly as they made their way through the empty dining carriage towards the rear of the twenty-two-car-long train. ‘One of the passengers had an accident walking between two of the carriages. His mate was behind him, saw it happen and ran back to pull the emergency stop.’

‘Do we have any idea what sort of injury?’

Her voice was calm, clear and in control. Gil was pleased. It appeared he had a doctor who was more than happy to assist in this emergency. He’d realised years ago that emergency medicine didn’t suit every type of medical professional, but for him it provided variety and unique challenges and was something he thrived on…especially since June and Caitie. Gil shook his head. Now was definitely not the time to even think about his past.

‘Lots of blood has been the main report.’ Gil indicated to one of the stewards as they walked through to the next carriage and nodded, indicating the man should start his debrief now.

‘Uh…yeah…right, Doc. We uh…just got a message through our radios…’ he indicated the two-way communication device ‘…saying a man had hurt himself and there was a lot of blood.’

Phemie nodded, thinking through possible scenarios, but
there were simply too many. ‘Has anyone contacted the authorities? Sent for medical support?’

‘Uh…I think the driver has notified the rail authority but I don’t know about anything else.’

Phemie reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone.

‘It won’t work here,’ the guard said. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere.’

‘We’re only about four hours out of Didja and
this
is no ordinary phone.’ She punched in a number and a moment later was connected. ‘Hi, it’s Phemie.’ She paused. ‘I
am
having a break, I promise, but there’s been an accident on the train.’ The guard was able to give her their exact co-ordinates and she passed this information on. ‘Get the plane in the air. I’ll forward more details when I have them. Over.’ She replaced the phone in her pocket.

‘Over?’ A quizzical smile tipped Gil’s lips as they continued their way through the train. ‘Do you always end your phone calls like that?’

‘Oh. Yeah. Bad habit. I’m used to talking on a UHF radio.’

‘Really?’ Gil continued to be intrigued by this woman. ‘Who did you just call?’

‘RFDS.’ At his blank look, she remembered he was from overseas and quickly explained. ‘Royal Flying Doctor Service. We’re based just outside Didja.’

‘Didja?’

‘Didjabrindagrogalon. It’s the outback town where I boarded the train.’

‘You work at the RFDS?’

‘Yes.’

Gil digested this information as they finally arrived at the carriage with the injured passenger. As they’d walked, the stewards and guard had been stopped several times by people wanting to know what was happening. Some people were crying, others were visibly shaken, some had slept through the entire
thing. Gil, however, was busy processing the information about Phemie. If she worked for the RFDS, which he presumed provided emergency medical support to the farthest reaches of this vast country, it surely meant she was an experienced doctor with several years of training behind her. Yet she looked so young.

Harlan, the steward carrying the medical kit, walked behind them. ‘It’s just down here…’ He pointed as the end of the carriage came into view. There were lots of people standing around, blocking the way.

‘Excuse me.’ Gil’s voice carried the authority necessary to make people obey. They shuffled by the crowd to find one man slumped to the floor, his eyes wide, his hands tinged with blood, his body shaking, staring blankly.

Beside him were another two stewards, leaning over a man in his early twenties. One was at his head, talking to him, trying to keep him calm. The other was at the man’s feet. The patient’s right leg was elevated, a blood-soaked towel around the foot.

‘I’m Dr Fitzwilliam. What’s happened?’ Again, Gil’s voice was clear and smooth. Phemie watched an expression of relief cross the steward’s face. The cavalry was there and they were more than happy to back away.

‘His toe’s come off. His big toe!’ The steward holding the towel was the first to speak, the words said with utter disbelief. ‘He wasn’t wearing closed shoes. He went between the carriages, the train lurched, his toe got caught and…and…saying this out loud makes me feel sick.’

‘We tell the passengers,’ Harlan said sternly, ‘we tell them no flip-flops. No bare feet. We tell them all the time.’

‘Yes.’ Gil took the first-aid kit from Harlan, holding it open so Phemie could extract gloves. ‘Thank you. Now isn’t the time for chastisement or laying blame. The legalities can wait until later. The first priority is for the patient to be assessed. Harlan, you need to find the missing digit.’

‘His toe’s really come off?’ Phemie had managed to manoeuvre herself around so she could take over from the young steward who was holding the towel. ‘We need to find it.’

‘Find the toe?’ Now the young steward turned a nasty shade of pale.

‘Believe it or not.’ Harlan’s voice was strong and sure. ‘This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Of course, the last time was almost twenty years ago and even though we found the missing toe, it was too late to reattach it.’ He seemed to be the one with the strongest constitution amongst the railway staff present and Phemie knew Gil had been right to put him in charge of the search. ‘I’ll get that organised immediately.’ He turned to the guard and started discussing exactly where they had stopped and how far back they would need to begin looking.

Gil crouched down near the friend who was against the wall but kept glancing to where Phemie was busy assessing the foot in question. He put the first-aid kit down where she could reach it, then focused on the injured man’s friend. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Paolo.’

‘I’m Gil. What happened? Can you remember?’

‘We were just walking between the carriages. We were heading to the dining hall and Kiefer stumbled. I don’t know. The train just lurched and then Kiefer was screaming and there was blood everywhere around his foot and the…the…I was right near the door and then I saw the emergency stop handle and I just…I just pulled it. I…’ Paolo shook his head. ‘There was blood and…’ He clamped a hand over his mouth.

‘It’s OK,’ Gil reassured him. ‘You did the right thing. Any delay in stopping the train means we may not find the toe.’

‘Oh—’ Paolo went as white as a sheet, looking like he was going to faint.

Gil urged the man’s head forward and motioned for Harlan to come over. ‘Get someone to stay with Paolo, please. I need to assist Dr Grainger.’

‘She’s a doctor?’ Harlan was stunned. ‘She looks so young.’

As he made his way to Kiefer, Gil was pleased he wasn’t the only one who’d thought Phemie to be a lot younger than she looked. ‘Hey, there, Kiefer,’ he said to their patient. ‘I’m Gil and this is Phemie. Are you allergic to anything?’

‘No. No.’ Kiefer shook his head. Gil searched in the first-aid kit, pleased to find a penlight torch. He checked Kiefer’s pupils. ‘Been drinking tonight? Taking any substances?’ He checked the man’s pupils.

Kiefer shook his head again.

‘I need to know. I don’t care what it is but I need to know otherwise it makes it more difficult for us to treat you.’ Gil could smell the faint remnants of beer on the breath of both Paolo and his mate but he needed to hear it.

‘Beer. Just beer.’

‘How many?’

‘Three. Maybe four. Not that many. We’d just got started. We got hungry.’ Kiefer was in so much pain Gil was surprised he hadn’t passed out but the alcohol would have been enough to take the edge off the trauma.

‘All right. Good.’ The first-aid kit was well stocked but unfortunately there was nothing stronger than over-the-counter pain medication. It would have to do for now. Gil sent a steward to get a cup of water.

‘How does it look?’ he asked quietly as he watched Phemie. She’d placed the foot onto a clean towel and was trying to clean and wash the wound site to afford them a better look.

‘From what I can see, it’s been cleanly severed. There is sufficient skin to enable reattachment. He’s a good candidate. I’ve asked for some ice-packs and also for a container of ice for when we find the missing digit.’

‘Optimism. I like that.’

‘Good, because I have it in abundance.’

‘Really?’

Their gazes met, his brown eyes rich and almost teasing. For a split second it was as though they were back in the lounge carriage. Just the two of them, their minds having one conversation, their bodies having another. Tension. Awareness. Questions. They were all there and as Phemie looked away, she made the attempt to clarify her statement. ‘Well, where my patients are concerned, at any rate.’

‘Like all good doctors should,’ he returned. Why had she felt the need to clarify? Was she not usually optimistic in other areas of her life? Her personal life? If that was the case, it only piqued his curiosity further. In fact, ever since he’d first seen Euphemia Grainger his thoughts had been more captivated by her than anything else. This was definitely something new for him to ponder, given that his thoughts were always about his research, his next lot of speeches and presentations. Thinking about a woman? Having a woman occupy his thoughts? No. That was wrong.

The steward returned with the cup of water and Gil administered two analgesic painkillers, knowing the previously consumed alcohol in Kiefer’s system wouldn’t react to the pills. Until help arrived, there wasn’t much else he or Phemie could do except make their patient as comfortable as possible and find that toe.

Gil performed Kiefer’s observations and reported the findings to Phemie. ‘He’s as stable as we can get him.’

‘Good. I’m ready to bandage this foot up now. Did you want to look before I do so?’ she asked, shifting slightly to make room where there wasn’t any. Now that she’d said the words, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to come any closer. If he did, it would only bring them into tight contact with each other, given the walkways were barely big enough to fit two people through side by side let alone hip to hip with a patient lying on the floor before them.

Gil tried to shift through but short of moving Kiefer’s body
to the side, getting anywhere near the foot in question was going to have to wait. He shook his head. ‘I can’t get through. Just show me from there. I have good eyesight.’