Her Great Expectations (9 page)

“I took an existing global positioning system and adapted it to cope with the requirements of small aircraft in Australia,” he explained, his words hurried and impatient. “So, yes, you could say I invented it.”

What he was saying sank in.

“You invented a GPS for aircraft.” Her voice was flat. Gesturing to the dogbots, she demanded, “Why are you making
toys
when you’re capable of creating sophisticated equipment?”

“The physical damage isn’t the only problem. It’s got programming bugs.” He jerked the plastic cover back over the GPS. “I don’t know why I haven’t thrown it out.”

“Couldn’t you could work out the bugs?” Oliver asked.

“Not interested.” Jack went back to the workbench and started wiring a battery to the underside of the yellow plastic dogbot body. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he focused intently on his task.

All of a sudden Sienna recalled how Jack had lost his wife. She put a hand on Oliver’s shoulder, warning him not to ask any more questions. She glanced at the shrouded plastic and her skin prickled. Had this GPS been in the plane crash that killed her?

“I’d better go,” she said awkwardly.

Jack put down the dogbot. “I’ll carry your stand for you.”

“I can manage…” she began, but he was already striding back to the kitchen area.

“Did I do something wrong, Mum?” Oliver asked.

“Don’t worry about it. Just lay off the GPS, okay? And be home in time for dinner. I’ll see you later.” She ruffled his hair and let out a sigh. Then she headed across to the coffee area where Jack was gathering up her things.

Jack grabbed her briefcase, tucked her easel stand under his arm and without a word carried them out to her car. Sienna followed. She got into the driver’s seat and rolled down the window. “Sorry about that back there. Oliver doesn’t know…”

Jack propped his hands on the roof and leaned in. “Just what is it that you think you know?”

Sienna licked her lips, which were suddenly dry. “Your wife died in a plane crash. You were the pilot.”

His features twisted. He straightened, slapped the roof. “See you around.”

So it was true, Sienna thought. Jack was still hung up on his late wife.

“Do you know how cold denim gets when it’s wet?” Sienna stopped in the middle of the mall and peered through the throng of shoppers. “Where is that outdoors shop? I thought it was right next to Target.”

“Sienna!” a woman’s voice called from behind them.

Sienna gazed blankly out at a sea of unfamiliar faces. Then she spotted Lexie’s blond curly head bobbing through the crowd. “Hey, Lexie.”

Lexie waved at Sienna with a paint-stained hand. Over her other arm was a bag bearing the logo of an artists’ supply shop. “I’m so glad I ran into you. I asked Jack for your phone number but he didn’t have it. Do you remember I wanted to paint your portrait for the Archibald Prize? I was serious.” She pressed her hands together. “Please, will you do it? It won’t take more than a few sittings if I take photos, too. We could get started this weekend. Today, if it suits you.”

“Oh, but I…” Sienna began, flustered. “Oliver, this is Lexie, Jack’s sister. Lexie, this is Oliver, my son. He’s going to New Zealand on a skiing trip in a few weeks. We’re getting him outfitted this afternoon. Tonight I’m going out.”

“You never told me that,” Oliver said. “Is it a date?”

Hearing the heightened interest in his voice, she stared at him. Since when was he interested in her social life? “I’m going to dinner and a movie with Natalie, one of the other doctors at the clinic.”

“Could you sit for me tomorrow?” Lexie asked hopefully.

“Well,” Sienna began, racking her brains for an excuse. Sitting for her portrait seemed so vain. “I usually spend Sundays with Oliver.”

“I’m working on a school project with Jason,” Olly said.

In that case she had nothing to do tomorrow except wrestle with the weeds in her backyard. It wasn’t about her, she decided; it was about Lexie’s painting. “Okay, I can sit.”

“Wonderful!” Lexie bounced on the toes of her ballet flats. Then she rummaged in her leather shoulder bag and found a scrap of paper and a pen. “Here’s my address. Come around two o’clock. That’s when the light hits my studio.” She handed Sienna the paper. “Thank you! Thank you!”

“That’s all right.” Sienna smiled at Lexie’s infectious enthusiasm. Getting to know her would be fun.

Lexie hurried off, and Sienna and Oliver resumed threading their way through the mall. In a few moments they came to the outdoor shop.

They searched the racks of ski jackets for something they could agree on. Oliver wanted a flashy, trendy jacket; Sienna insisted on one that would keep him warm and dry.

“How about this one?” She held up a dark brown coat.

“Ew, no.”

Sienna stifled a sigh and kept flicking through the hangers. “You know you have to finish all your homework and assignments before you go, don’t you?”

Oliver slipped on a bright green jacket with purple stripes on the upper arms. “This one’s cool.”

“And there’s that math test.” Sienna eyed the jacket critically as she fingered the thinly quilted down. “You’d freeze in this thing.”

“I have to finish the dogbots. Jack wants to make twenty for the Trivia Night.”

“The dogbots are
his
responsibility. Your job is to do your homework.”

Jack this, Jack that. His name was all Sienna heard out of Oliver these days. She was trying to
forget
the man. “Why were you so interested in what I’m doing tonight?” she asked with studied casualness.

“I thought you and Jack might go out,” he said with the ingenuousness of youth. “He’s cool.”

Sienna hoped he wasn’t discussing her with her son. She held up a navy jacket. “How about this?”

“I want this one,” he insisted, holding up the fluorescent-green coat. “Dad sent me the money. It’s not like you’re even paying for it.”

“I’m still your mother and I’m sure your dad would want me to make sure you’ve got good-quality clothing, not junk that will fall apart or won’t keep you warm.”

“I’d roast in the one you chose,” Oliver pointed out. “I don’t get as cold as you do.” It
was
a medical fact that young people had higher metabolisms. But Sienna wasn’t wearing her white coat today. “Just try it on, okay? Put on the pants, too. You want to be sure they’re long enough.”

“Oh, all right.” Oliver took the hanger and trudged off to the fitting rooms.

She browsed through the shop, picking up a pair of ski gloves she thought he might like, then wandered back. A man in a jacket and pants just like the ones Olly had gone to try on was checking himself in the mirror outside the fitting room. Sienna was just thinking how good the outfit looked when he turned around.

The man was her son.

Her hand went to her heart. “Olly, you scared me!”

“Huh?”

“I…” She recovered and managed a smile. “I didn’t expect you to look so grown up. I thought you were a man.”

He frowned importantly into the mirror. “I
am
a man.” His voice cracked as he said it, though. He gave her a sheepish grin and she had to laugh.

“Go take those off and we’ll pay for them,” Sienna said.

Oliver’s smile faded. “What about the green outfit?”

“This jacket makes you look older,” she said craftily.

“They make me look
old.
Dad said to get what I wanted.”

Sienna threw her hands up. “Freeze to death. See if I care.”

“Cool.” Oliver grabbed the other ski jacket and pants and went back to the change room.

Sienna paced outside. Oh, no, she didn’t care. She would only lie awake at night wondering if he’d fallen and broken his neck. Or if he had a sniffle. Why had she ever agreed to let him go? He was too young to travel overseas on his own. Sure, his father would be there. But what if Oliver got lost on the mountain? Anthony never paid close attention to their son’s whereabouts.

“Stop frowning, Mum,” Oliver said, coming up to her. “You worry too much.”

“Aren’t you going to try those on?” Sienna asked, seeing his arms full of ski jacket and pants.

“I already did. They fit fine.”

She watched him pay, conscious he was venturing further out of her orbit with this trip than ever before. Part of her was pleased he was so mature for his age. Part of her wanted to grab him by his shirttails and hold him back.

“I got these for you,” she said when he was finished paying, and presented him with a shopping bag.

Oliver dropped his own at his feet so he could examine the ski goggles, wax, a waterproof case for his wallet and mobile phone and a bright orange plastic cylinder. “What’s this?” he asked, holding up the last.

“It’s a whistle, in case you get caught in an avalanche.”

“Mum!” Oliver laughed. “You expect the worst.”

“Just make sure you wear it.” She started walking off, ridiculously afraid she might start crying.

“Mum!” There was a rustle of bags and a flurry of footsteps, then Oliver’s arm went around her shoulders. “Thanks,” he said gruffly. “You’re the best.”

Blinking, she could only smile at him.
No, you are.

And then he slipped free and his long stride carried him away, ahead of her down the mall. Teenagers didn’t like to be seen walking with their mothers. She knew that. It didn’t hurt, she told herself.

Well, maybe just a little.

She opened the door. “Anthony! What are you doing here so early?”

Anthony had arranged to pick up Oliver and take him to his house for the night before their early flight to Auckland the next morning. Sienna had already said her goodbyes to Olly, expecting to be gone before Anthony arrived.

“Nice to see you, too.” Her ex-husband arched one eyebrow high into his receding hairline. “May I come in?”

“Of course.” She stepped back.

He walked through into the lounge room, glancing around at the modern furnishings. “I finally see your new place. Nice. Different.”

“I like it.” After she’d left their marital home she’d lost her taste for antiques and ornate decor.

Her ex-husband looked the same as always—tall and thin, with a slight forward lean as if he were hunting for something. His clothes, a printed T-shirt and long shorts, were more casual than usual, though. Was Anthony having a midlife crisis and grasping at his lost youth?

“Oliver’s down the street at Jason’s house, saying goodbye. He’ll be back any minute.” Steeling herself, she added, “How’s Erica?”

Anthony’s narrow forehead creased into two deep vertical lines. “Her blood pressure is too high. The obstetrician is considering an early inducement.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” The jealousy Sienna always felt toward Erica was laced with genuine concern. “Are you sure you should be going away at this time?”

“No, I’m not sure, frankly.” He ran a hand gently over his thinning hair, as if making sure it was still there. “But I promised Oliver. After backing out of our last trip I want to make it up to him.”

During the summer holidays Anthony had planned to take Oliver to the Gold Coast but had to cancel at the last minute to perform an emergency heart operation. Oliver had understood, of course, but he’d been disappointed, and the fact remained that he didn’t see enough of his father. Too often their designated weekends together were cut short because of Anthony’s work.

“We’re doing up the spare room as a nursery,” Anthony told Sienna. “Decals, clouds on the ceiling, the whole shebang. Did we get rid of Olly’s old cot?”

“I stored it in the attic. Just in case.” Just in case a miracle occurred and they worked out their marriage problems. How
that
would happen when they rarely talked she’d never figured out. She’d wanted another baby after Olly but had held off, not wanting to bring a child into a failing marriage.

She checked her watch. Where was Olly? Where was Jack?

“You’re all dressed up. Are you going out?”

“I have a date.” That wasn’t true, of course, but all this talk about Anthony’s new family had left her ego in need of bolstering.

“Who is he?”

“Jack Thatcher. He lives here in Summerside.”

“What does he do?”

Why was that the first question everyone asked? She was probably as guilty of pigeonholing people as anyone, but it seemed unfair. Why didn’t folks want to know about hobbies or friends or…or did you grow vegetables in your spare time?

“Honestly, Anthony, you sound like my father!” With a nervous laugh she glanced at her watch again.

“He’s late, is he?”

“A little.” Thirty minutes and counting. Was this what Jack was like? After all, he never had to be at work on time, never had a deadline to meet. He lived a carefree, unscheduled lifestyle. “Excuse me. I’ll just give him a call to see what’s keeping him.”

“I hope he hasn’t stood you up,” Anthony murmured.

“He wouldn’t do that.” Maybe Jack wasn’t used to schedules, but he wouldn’t deliberately let anyone down, she felt sure of that.

She dialed his number and listened to his mobile phone ring out. Then she tried his home number. No answer. Something must have gone wrong. Maybe his truck had broken down. Maybe he’d had an accident. Maybe she should go over there and see if he needed help.

The front door opened. “Hey, Mum,” Oliver called. “Dad’s car is here.” The teenager appeared in the doorway, his lanky body awkward and shuffling.

“Olly!” Anthony walked forward to embrace his son. “I swear you’ve grown two inches since I saw you last.”

“Nah.” Oliver ducked his head, his cheeks bright red.

“If you guys will excuse me,” Sienna said. “Olly, can you lock up?”

“I’m ready to go now,” he said.

“Then we’ll all be off.” Anthony put his arm around Olly’s shoulders but his father-son camaraderie seemed forced and after a moment the boy ducked away.

Sienna hugged Oliver goodbye and issued a final volley of instructions. “Be sure to wear your hat. Don’t be a daredevil. Keep that whistle on you at all times.” She took a breath, blinked. “I want you home in one piece.”

“I’ll be fine,” Olly assured her, squirming as she tried to straighten his collar. “Tell Jack I’ll see him when I get back.” He grabbed his bag and headed out to the street where Anthony had parked his Mercedes-Benz.

Anthony pressed a light kiss to Sienna’s cheek. “You’re looking good. Summerside suits you.”

“It does.” She smiled. “Take care of our boy.”

“I will.” Anthony paused. “You could give Erica a call.”

Sienna wrapped her arms around herself, trying to contain the flare of anger and jealousy she felt. She’d almost been angrier with Erica over the affair than she had been with Anthony. “I’ll see.”

Anthony’s mouth thinned but he didn’t pursue it. “I’ll get Olly to call you in a few days.”

Sienna got her purse, a bottle of wine and a plate of cheese and crackers for Trivia Night and got into her car. She drove past the high school on the way to Jack’s house just to see if he’d decided to drop the toys off before picking her up. The gym was lit and cars were pulling into the lot. But she couldn’t see Jack’s truck.

His shiny red ute was parked in front of the shed. The driver’s door was open and the cabin light was on. Light streamed out of the building’s open double doors. Inside, a radio played, the only sound in an otherwise eerily quiet scene. Sienna parked and got out of the car. As her footsteps sounded on the gravel, Bogie appeared in the shed doorway and uttered a single deep woof.

“Hey, Bogie. Where’s Jack?” Sienna circled around to the back of the ute. The flatbed was loaded with bicycles lashed to one another and stacks of kites. Large cardboard boxes likely held the small wooden toys and the dogbots.

A black rocking horse lay on its side on the gravel.

Sienna righted the downed horse uneasily, her nerve endings tingling. Bogie trotted out to sniff her hand, then trotted back to the shed, pausing at the threshold to wait for her.

“Jack?” Sienna called into the building. The sound of a groan met her ears. Bogie whined and edged toward the open area kitchen. Sienna pushed past the golden retriever. “Jack, where are you?”

“Sienna.” Jack’s voice was tight and hoarse, as if he was out of breath. “Over here.”

His voice came from the couch, whose high back blocked her view of him. As she moved forward, she stifled a gasp. His left shoulder was slumped at a wrong angle and he was cradling his left arm with his right, holding it close to his body. Bogie whined again and licked Jack’s cheek.

Sienna dropped to sit next to Jack, gently touching his arm. “You’ve dislocated your shoulder.”

“I was…loading a rocking…horse…onto the truck.” His face twisted in a spasm of pain and he paused for breath. “Bogie flushed out a possum. Damn critter shot up the back of the truck right under my nose. Startled me. My arms jerked straight up…above my head. Those horses are even heavier…than they look.”

“Don’t try to talk.” Sienna palpated the shoulder joint. The humerus had popped out of the socket and was projected anteriorly. “I’ll call an ambulance.” She took her phone out of her purse.

With his good hand Jack grabbed it and tossed it onto the couch. “You…fix it for me.”

“At the hospital you’ll get an IV with muscle relaxants,” she explained. “Then the doctor on call will relocate your joint.”

“No.” Jack’s teeth gritted as another spasm ripped through him. “Do something now.”

“I know the pain is extreme,” she said in her most soothing manner. “But once you’ve been treated you’ll feel better very quickly.”

“It’s not the pain. I can handle that. It’s hospitals I don’t like.” He paused, sweat beading his forehead. “This has happened twice before. It’s an old injury. Just pop it back in place.”

“I recommend you go to the hospital.”

“Are you listening to me?” His glazed eyes focused sharply in a flare of anger. “I could put the shoulder back in myself if I had to. But I would have thought there’d be some perks to having a doctor on the spot.”

“You’ll need to go to the hospital anyway for X-rays,” Sienna insisted.

“Why, so the radiologist can tell me that the anterior lip of the joint has been eroded, resulting in chronic instability? I
know
that.”

“But—”

“Just push it back in, give me a couple of anti-

inflammatory tablets and I’ll be good to go. We don’t want to be late for Trivia Night.”

“You’re
not
going to Trivia Night,” she said, horrified.

“The hell I’m not.” He glared at her.

Stubborn man. She could be here all night arguing with him. “Okay, okay.” She would worry about dissuading him once his arm was back in place. “Let’s get your shirt off.”

Summoning a cool bedside manner, she undid the buttons. Easing first his good arm out of its sleeve, she moved behind him, pulling the shirt off his back. Years of training prevented her from gasping, but her nostrils flared as she sucked in a swift silent breath. Three jagged scars angled across his back from his left shoulder down to his right lumbar. Lightly her fingertips traced the pale ridges marring his tanned skin. “Are these from the plane crash?”

“My arm,” he reminded her, his voice tight.

“Sorry.” She slipped off the other sleeve. “You need to lie on the floor,” she said, and helped him into a supine position on the faded area rug.

“Have you ever done this before?” he asked.

“Many times. I did several rotations in orthopedics while I was at City Hospital.” She grasped his wrist with her right hand and placed her left hand on his shoulder, her fingers obtaining firm support on the top while her thumb felt for the tip of the dislocated humerus.

“And now you’re a GP in Summerside? Isn’t that a bit of a comedown in the medical world?”

“Not at all. I’m chief doctor running a busy clinic instead of just another resident. Now, quiet, please. This will hurt.”

“Why do you think I’m chattering like a granny at the church picnic—”

“One, two, three…” Sienna drew in a deep breath. With her right hand she carefully lifted his arm above his body, applying enough pressure to relocate the joint without damaging tissue. Supporting the head of the humerus, she gently rotated the arm and pushed the ball over the rim of the glenoid and into the socket. Sweat popped out on Jack’s forehead, but he didn’t so much as wince. Sienna slowly lowered his arm, gently palpating the joint to assure herself it was back in place. “How are you feeling?”

Jack struggled to a sitting position and gingerly tested the movement of his arm. “Fine.”

She helped him put his shirt back on, then he batted her hand away, insisting on buttoning it himself.

“I’ll get a sling out of the first-aid kit in my car,” Sienna said. “We’ll get you back to your house where you can rest.”

When she returned a few minutes later, Jack was talking on her mobile phone. “Bob, can you get over here and help me load the rest of these toys onto the truck?” Sienna shook her head violently and he said, “On second thought, Sienna’s likely to burst a blood vessel if I lift anything else tonight. I’ll call Paul to give you a hand.” He held the phone away from his ear, grimacing at the stream of complaints. “Yeah, well, you’ll just have to work together. Stop whingeing. Steve and Ralph are too old for heavy lifting.”

Sienna unwrapped the triangle of unbleached cotton. Jack had managed to do up only the two middle buttons, leaving a revealing glimpse of a tanned muscular chest and taut abdomen. She tried not to look, but now that the emergency was over she was only human.

“Sit down,” she said briskly. “You’re too tall for me to tie this while you’re standing.” She had to stop thinking of him as a man. She was a doctor, used to dealing with the most personal details of the human body with detachment and objectivity.

But this wasn’t just any body—it was Jack. And the procedure felt intimate. She was all too aware of the heat coming off his skin and the nearness of his mouth. Her fingers fumbled on the last button and brushed against his belt.

“I don’t need help,” he said, sounding as tense as she was.

“Sit!” she barked, as exasperated with her response to him as she was with his stubbornness.

He dropped onto a stool.

Sienna reached the ends of the sling around his neck, as if she were embracing him. Where was her cool medical poise? Even with her face averted she could feel his breath on her cheek and his gaze burning her face. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to knot the cloth. Then she felt a hand slide around her waist. “What are you doing?”