Bachelor Cure (4 page)

‘It's coming back,' she whispered. She stared out at the surrounding countryside. It had always been a tussle to keep this land cleared. The little farm had been neglected for the last few years and the bushland was reclaiming its own. There were only Henry's six goats to keep it down.

‘It was definitely east of here,' she said surely. ‘I'm sure I remember. But the country's rough.'

‘I've bought a backpack,' he told her, bending to throw the picnic things back in the basket. ‘It's in the car.'

‘But… We don't need provisions. It should only take an hour.'

‘I'm taking medical equipment,' he said curtly. ‘Just in case…'

‘But…you still think he's dead?'

‘If he was somewhere safe and dry and then col
lapsed…' He shook his head. ‘Who knows? But if there is such a place then I guess there might be a chance. I just wish to hell I'd been able to contact you when this whole mess happened. If I'd known…'

Tess looked curiously up at him. ‘You really care,' she said softly—wondering. ‘Mike, Grandpa's your patient but he's an old man with nothing whatever to do with you except in a professional capacity. You must have two or three thousand patients on your books, yet you care enough to come out and untether Grandpa's goats and check on his pig at midnight. You care enough to rescue a weird and ridiculous dog from death—and you care enough to come with me now.'

‘Yeah, well…' He gave a shrug, feeling embarrassed, and Tess stared some more.

‘Thank you,' she said simply.

‘No. If I'd contacted you, you might have been able to tell me…'

‘I couldn't have described where the cave was, even if I'd thought of it,' she told him. ‘I don't know for sure that I can find it now. But I hope…'

She paused and he stood and took her hand strongly in his, pulling her over to stand beside him. His arm came around her waist in a gesture of reassurance and comfort.

‘Then let's do that, Tess,' he said gravely. ‘Let's hope.'

 

The cave was further away than she remembered, and by the time they found it the last of the light was
fading behind the hills. The sunset had been spectacular, and there was still a fading glow around the sky.

It was instinct rather than knowledge that led her to the cave. She couldn't have described the route if she'd tried. Instead, Mike watched as she simply let her mind drift back to her last summer's afternoon with her grandfather, set her eyes on the hills and let her feet rewalk the route they'd taken. He didn't say a word, sensing her need to let her instincts take over.

And her instincts didn't fail her.

Resting high in the hills in dense bushland, where a small creek trickled down over vast boulders, two massive rocks stood sentinel to a third. The rear rock looked as if it had been almost blasted into the cliff face—a part of a rock wall which was sheer and impregnable. It was only when you slipped behind the front two rocks, then walked around a small outcrop to the side, that a small opening behind the rear rock could be seen. It was just big enough for a man to fit.

Tess found it wordlessly, her face reflecting hope and dread. What if her grandfather wasn't here?

And what if he was?

Strop was sniffing the entrance, his floppy ears pricked as much as it was possible for basset ears ever to prick. Mike looked down at his dog and his face tightened. He placed a hand on Tessa's shoulder and gently propelled her forward. ‘It won't get better for the waiting,' he told her softly. ‘Come on, Tess. I think your grandfather might be here—and I'm right beside you.'

And thank God he was. There was no way he
wanted Tess to face this on her own. He badly wanted to tell her to stay back now—let him find whatever was inside—but he knew she'd have none of that, so he took her hand and Tess let hers lie in his as he led her forward. She had brought Mike here, but now she was clearly grateful to let him be in charge. She squeezed through the gap as his hand pulled her on, and he could feel the tension in her fingers.

Inside, the cave was so big it might almost have been the vaulting roof of a cathedral. There was a crevice above that, open to the evening sky, and the rosy hue of sunset shimmered around the smooth rock walls and lit the cavern in a dim and misty haze.

Tess didn't waste time admiring the beauty. At the rear of the cave there was a chamber, dry and filled with sand, closed to the weather but just open enough to the light so as not to be frightening. It was a comfortable place for a wounded thing to lie and tend its wounds.

Courage was no longer an issue. She dropped Mike's hand and stumbled quickly across the rough cave floor to reach the inner entrance, with Strop and Mike left to follow.

And inside she found her grandfather.

F
OR
a moment Tess and Mike thought Henry was dead.

For one long moment, she stood in the small doorway while her eyes adjusted to the dark. Her grandfather was huddled in a far corner, and he wasn't moving.

She gave a gasp of dismay, but then Mike pushed her aside, striding across the sand to stoop over the huddled figure. He lifted a limp wrist and turned to stare at Tess in the gloom.

‘He's alive, Tess. Help me.'

‘Alive…' Somehow Tess made her legs carry her over to where Mike was kneeling in the sand. ‘Oh, Mike, alive…'

Strop fell back. He'd been trained to do this. He wasn't all stupid. When Mike's voice hit a certain tense pitch, Strop knew enough to shove his butt down and wait.

‘How…? How…?' Tess stared down.

‘He's unconscious, Tess, but there's a heartbeat. He's so dry. Hell, feel his skin! His mouth is parched and his tongue is swollen. You'll find a torch in my pack, and a saline pack.' His hands were running over the old man as he spoke, moving with care and concern. ‘For him to have been here… He must have been here all this time!'

Tess was hauling Mike's backpack from his shoulders and fumbling inside for a torch. The flashlight rested right on the top. She flicked it on and directed it down at her grandfather's face.

The sight before her must be a dreadful shock, Mike thought grimly. Tess hadn't seen her grandfather for ten years and Henry then would have been a vigorous seventy-three-year-old—healthy and strong and full of life.

Now… The eighty-three-year-old man lying on the sand seemed drained of everything. His skin was as white as alabaster under his tan, and it stretched across his old bones as if it were parchment. Henry's eyes had sunk into their sockets and were staring sightlessly at the opposite wall. His cheeks were gaunt hollows and his lips were so dry they'd cracked, bled, half healed and cracked over and over again.

‘Find me a swab, Dr Westcott.' Mike cast a glance up at Tess, hoping like hell she wouldn't faint on him. His voice sliced across Tessa's distress like a knife. ‘Tessa, you're wasting time. I need a swab and then I need help to set up a saline drip. Fast. We haven't found him to let him die now.'

‘Oh, Mike… He looks so dreadful.' He looked like death!

But Tess didn't intend fainting. She took a deep, steadying breath and somewhere in that breath she turned from a frightened grandchild into a competent doctor. The fact that this was her beloved grandpa was thrust aside. Henry was an emergency patient, dying under their hands.

‘What do you think—?'

‘He's dehydrated,' Mike snapped. ‘You just have to see his lips… If he's lain here for days with no water… Everything else can wait, Tess, but we have to get fluids in.'

‘OK.' She was already moving, sorting out swabs and syringes and tubing from Mike's bag and handing them across in the dim torchlight.

Mike knew there were two people inside her head now. One was Tessa Westcott, scared-stiff granddaughter, and the other was Dr Westcott, efficient medical practicioner. For now, though, she was efficient and she was professional. The first lady had been sent outside for the duration to wring her hands in private. Henry needed Dr Westcott now, and so did Mike.

Two minutes later they had saline flowing. Mike had everything they needed in his backpack, and Tess found it, prepared it and handed it across at need as if she were in a properly equipped Casualty cubicle, rather than squatting in an ill-lit cave. Mike adjusted the saline to full flow. He took the stethoscope that Tess offered and held it to Henry's chest—and then finally he sank back on his heels and looked across at her.

‘We have a massive chest infection here, and it's no wonder after this long without attention,' he told her. ‘There's a mobile phone in my bag, Tess. Hand it to me and we'll call in help. The ambulance boys will bring a stretcher in and carry him out.'

‘If it's not too late…'

With everything they could do having now been done, it was time now for Dr Westcott to revert again
to being just plain Tessa—and just plain scared. The theatre door had been opened and the relatives ushered in. Tess was now Tessa, the relative. She looked down at the man lying on the sand, and her face twisted. ‘Oh, Grandpa, don't you dare die. Not when we're so close…'

‘Don't give up, Tess,' Mike said roughly, putting a hand out and taking hers in a strong, hard grip. ‘He's alive and that's more than we hoped for. We've had a miracle. Let's see if we can score another one.' He gave her a tight, strained smile, and then turned to his phone.

He watched her sit and listen while he barked orders to unknown people at the end of the telephone link, and her hand stroked her grandfather's face as she waited. That he'd been here for so long—alone. Her hand went down and gripped the fingers of her grandfather's hand, willing life into his veins. By her side, Strop nosed forward and gave her spare hand a lick, and Tessa's strained look eased, as though that one lick had been immeasurably—stupidly—comforting.

‘Grandpa… I'm here, Grandpa,' she faltered. ‘It's Tessa. I've come home.'

Mike's eyes never left her face as he spoke into the phone. Home…It sounded right.

That was a crazy thought! This wasn't Tessa's home. She had no life here, and why such a thought had the power to jolt him he didn't know. Tessa had nothing to do with this valley—nothing to do with him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but as he did he
saw Tessa's eyes widen as she stared down at Henry. He glanced down, and a muscle moved almost imperceptibly at the corner of Henry's right eye.

‘Grandpa…' She leaned closer, and Mike stared, unable to believe he'd seen the movement. He let the phone drop to his side. He wasn't imagining it—Tess had seen the movement, too. He took Henry's other hand.

‘Henry, it's Mike Llewellyn here.' He flashed an uncertain look at Tessa, unsure how she was reacting, and then he fixed all his concentration on Henry. ‘It's Doc Llewellyn. You're quite safe, Henry, and your granddaughter's here, too. Tessa's come all the way from the States to find you. We've been searching for days, but no one but Tessa knew where the cave was. Now we'll stay with you until we can stretcher you out to hospital. You're quite safe.'

Henry's right eye fluttered open and he saw them.

His gaze wandered from Tess to Mike…and then back to Tess. It was clear that focussing was an enormous effort. There was confusion in his look. His left eye stayed closed, but the hand Tess was holding tightened convulsively.

Henry's lips moved, ever so faintly, and Tess bent to hear.

‘Tess…'

The word was blurred to the point of being unintelligible, spoken through one side of his mouth and with a chest that rattled and wheezed and barely functioned, but they knew it for what it was. Tessa's eyes filled with tears.

‘It's really me, Grandpa,' she murmured. ‘We're here. Mike and I are here.'

‘Mike and I…' It sounded good. It sounded reassuring, even to Mike's ears.

‘Don't worry, Grandpa,' she said. ‘We'll have you in hospital in no time.'

‘S-stay.'

‘I will.' It was a vow, and suddenly, as she made it, Mike knew the vow she was making wasn't a light one. She'd stay.

‘I'll see that she stays, Mr Westcott,' he said softly. ‘Don't you worry about that.'

Now why on earth had he said that?

 

‘She's gorgeous.'

‘Yes.' There was no doubt in his mind just who they were talking about.

It was six in the morning. Mike had snatched a few short hours' sleep, interrupted at two a.m. by a child with croup and at five by a drip which had packed up, and at six he hit the hospital kitchen for strong black coffee. Bill had arrived a few minutes earlier and the charge nurse was wrapping himself around a plate of porridge.

‘Will she stay?' Bill asked.

‘What do you mean, will she stay? I guess she'll stay until Henry decides whether to live.'

‘But will he live?' The news of Henry's discovery had hit Bill the minute he'd entered the hospital. Predawn or not, Bill guessed it'd be all over the valley by now.

‘Maybe.'

‘But maybe not?'

‘I can't tell how bad the stroke was,' Mike said. ‘Not until we get him rehydrated, get the intravenous antibiotics working on his chest and get him over his shock. He's had a hell of an ordeal and he has a massive chest infection.'

‘He looks dreadful.'

‘You've seen him?'

‘I poked my head around the door when I got in.'

‘Are his obs OK? They were settling when I left him at midnight and no one's rung to say there's a problem. There's been no change?'

‘Tessa's happy with them.'

‘Tessa…' Mike stared. ‘Tessa's asleep. I set Hannah to special him.'

‘Tessa's sitting by his bedside,' Bill said blandly. ‘Hannah's down in the nursery with Billy and his croup. Billy's a real handful—he's been giving the night staff hell—and Tessa told her she wasn't needed. She'd look after her grandpa herself.'

‘But I told Tessa to go to bed.'

‘She's not the sort of girl to follow orders,' Bill said, a faint grin playing over his face. ‘At least, not unless she agrees with them.'

‘She's exhausted,' Mike said grimly. ‘That's stupid.'

‘Is she as tired as you, then?'

‘I'm not tired.'

‘Oh, no?' Bill leaned back and folded his arms across his large chest. ‘You've had on average of—let me guess—about four hours' sleep a night for the
last two weeks. And you're telling me you're not tired.'

‘I can cope.'

‘But Tessa Westcott's another doctor,' Bill said thoughtfully, his calm, intelligent eyes thoughtful. ‘You know, if there's one thing we need around here, it's another doctor.'

‘We don't need Tessa.'

‘Mike, we'd accept Doris the pig if only she had a medical degree,' Bill told him bluntly. ‘And your Tessa has a medical degree. Mike, boy, you have a duty here.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean you have enough address to charm a whole harem of Tessas.' Bill held up a hand to silence Mike's involuntary protest. ‘Now, don't deny it. I've seen you woo old ladies till their pulse rates shoot through the roof. They come in droves to get their flu injections, and I'll tell you what—it's not fear of flu that does it. And the old ladies have nothing on the young ones. You create havoc with my nursing staff—and all they get for their pains is a hopeless case of unrequited love. Or lust.' He grinned. ‘Or maybe both.'

‘Bill…'

‘Hey, we could make this a proper partnership here,' Bill continued, thinking this through. ‘Now, look, Mike. Be serious here. You know, if you snap your fingers, you could date any single lady in this valley. Even my Barbara says you make her pulse rate wobble—and she's the mother of my four kids. Yet you never go out with anyone more than twice. So…'
He held up his hand again to silence Mike's interruption.

‘No. Shut up and let me speak. So therefore…it stands to reason that you've been saving yourself. And I reckon the lady you've been saving yourself for has just entered your orbit.'

‘You have to be kidding!'

‘Would I joke about anything as serious as matchmaking?' Bill demanded. He grinned and lifted one finger on his raised hand. ‘You listen to Uncle Bill, my boy. One. The lady is seriously desirable. Even I can see that, despite my commitment to my Barbara. If Barbara can look sideways at Mike Llewellyn, I can look sideways at Henry Westcott's granddaughter.'

Then another finger went up. Bill was on a roll here and he wasn't to be stopped. ‘Two… The lady is a qualified medical practitioner.' A third finger. ‘Three. The lady has a need to stay in the valley. All you have to do is keep Henry alive and needful of family. And four…' He said this as Mike rose and stalked to the door. ‘Four, you need to be married, Mike Llewellyn. You need a wife and a few kids and a mortgage just like the rest of us.'

And as Mike walked out and slammed the door behind him, Bill's face split into a huge grin.

Because Mike Llewellyn didn't look angry. He just looked confused.

Bloody hell! Could they really have something going here?

‘I just might have another plate of porridge, Mrs Thompson,' Bill said to the hospital cook. ‘I'd drink
champagne if I could, but porridge will have to do. Believe it or not, we might have Dr Mike seriously interested in something other than work!'

 

Dr Mike wasn't seriously interested. Or…was he? He did his ward rounds with a strange feeling hanging over his head.

Normally his mind was totally on his job. Apart from his devotion to one crazy dog—and the small matter of his love affair with his car—he gave one hundred per cent concentration to his patients.

Now, though… His patients sensed that there was something different about Mike this morning. He was just as attentive, but there was an air of bewilderment about him.

‘Are you worried about Henry Westcott?' Sandra Lessing asked. She'd been the cause of his lack of sleep the night before last. Now she was sitting up in bed feeding her day-old son, and, like every patient in the hospital, she was agog with the news of Henry being found.

‘I guess.' Mike shrugged and smiled down at the downy little head nestled against his mother's breast. ‘I don't know, Sandra. There's no way of telling just how bad the damage is yet.'

‘He was so lucky to be found.' Sandra's family farmed a property on the other side of the ridge to Henry's and she knew at first hand just how hard the country around here was to search. ‘If it wasn't for his granddaughter coming back…' She looked at Mike, her eyes twinkling. ‘She's really something, isn't she? Bill introduced me to Tessa yesterday when
he was showing her over the hospital. She's just lovely.'