‘Dad, can we go to the shops?’
‘We saw Mum get out of a car at the end of the road.’
His heart crashed. They’d seen their mother? There was more likelihood of pigs flying by. Would this ever stop? As if it wasn’t enough that they’d broken this woman’s ankle, they thought they’d seen their selfish mother. When would the boys accept that that particular woman had no intention of ever returning? Even if she deigned to drop by because she’d had a rush of oxygen to the brain, she certainly would not want two eight-year-olds interfering with her career plans.
‘There isn’t time. You’re meant to be at the softball juniors’ Christmas party in an hour and you still have to clean your faces and put on decent clothes.’
The disappointment blinking out at him from two almost identical faces hurt as much as that broken ankle was hurting Jenny. Better he give it to them straight than have them walking up and down the short main street peering into every shop and café, looking for someone who was hundreds of k’s away in the North Island. He hated having to be the big bad ogre breaking their hearts by telling them that when it was their mother who’d caused their anguish.
He looked away, his gaze encountering Jenny’s as she drew in deep breaths of gas. This time he couldn’t read the expression in those green eyes at all. He didn’t try to guess because he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Whatever she was thinking didn’t matter.
Braden said, ‘We’ll be off as soon as we’ve got a splint on this here leg and loaded Jenny in the ambulance. You going to happy hour at the pub tonight?’
The fundraiser for the school swimming pool maintenance. ‘That depends on what time the boys’ Christmas do finishes and we get back here.’ He and the kids had become experts at socialising, being invited to just about every celebration happening in Havelock. Anything from a cat’s birthday to the theatre group’s finishing night was an excuse to have fun around here. Which was fine, except when someone took it into their head to arrange a function in Blenheim, a thirty-minute drive away. Not far except when appointments were stacking up or, like at this time of year, there were too many social engagements to attend.
‘Might see you later.’ Braden and Lyn shifted their patient onto the stretcher and rolled her across to the ambulance.
Cam followed, unable to walk away. ‘I hope all goes well for you at Wairau, Jenny. And once again, I’m sorry for my boys’ actions.’
Removing the gas inhaler from her mouth, she gave a semblance of a smile. ‘Accidents happen all the time. I should’ve been looking where I was going.’
This woman was very quick to forgive. Not many people would’ve said that. A genuine, good-hearted lady? Or was the laughing gas mellowing that despair that had been glittering out from those suck-him-in eyes?
Watching the ambulance pull away and head towards the intersection, he felt a tug of longing he hadn’t felt in years. Longing for what? Something about Jenny’s bravery had caused it, made him feel he should be following in his car, going to the ED with her. Holding her hand? Yeah, right. Holding a beautiful woman’s hand was so not on his agenda. He shrugged. Couldn’t deny feeling responsible for her.
If there’d been someone with her, or even meeting her at the other end, he wouldn’t be thinking like this. But it sounded like she was alone. So when she came out of hospital, where would she go? How would she get there? She hadn’t been carrying a bag, wasn’t wearing a jacket with pockets to hold money or credit cards. Or a phone. Just the keys she’d handed him to the car he had to retrieve and park at home. He swore, once, softly. He was going to have to deliver her bag to her.
He spied the boys carrying the cushions up the drive, flicking him worried looks from under their too-long hair, having obviously heard his bad language but not willing to tell him off as they normally did. At least they’d got the seriousness of the situation. He sighed. Time to get moving if they weren’t to be late for the party.
Oh, and note to self: arrange for two haircuts at the hair salon on Monday afternoon after school.
JENNY STARED AROUND the ED and shivered. ‘I want out of here. Like now.’
Not going to happen. The ED specialist had told her what she’d already suspected—that he was waiting for an orthopaedic surgeon to come in and look at her X-rays, and who knew when that would be. Apparently the surgeon had been out fishing on Queen Charlotte Sound when the ED staff had eventually got hold of him.
Waiting patiently wasn’t her forte any more. And waiting in an ED was cruel. There’d been a time she’d loved nothing more than turning up for her shift in the emergency department. She’d thrived on the heightened anticipation brought on when waiting for the unknown to come through the doors, and by helping put people back together after some disaster had befallen them. ‘Yeah, well, you turned out to be useless at that, didn’t you?’
The ED was full to overflowing. The adjacent cubicle wasn’t completely curtained off, leaving her open to scrutiny from a blue-eyed toddler with curls to die for. A young man lay on the bed in obvious pain, after apparently coming off his farm bike and being pinned underneath for an hour until his wife had found him. The injuries couldn’t be life-threatening or he’d be in Theatre already.
‘Up.’ A very imperious tone for someone so young.
‘No, Emma, leave the lady alone.’ The child’s mother snatched her out of reach to plonk her on a chair by the man’s bed. ‘I’m sorry about that,’ said the harried woman.
‘No problem.’ Jenny dredged up a smile and watched as the little girl clambered off the chair the moment her mother’s attention left her.
‘You all right there?’ asked a chirpy trainee nurse from the other side of Jenny’s bed. Too happy for her own good. ‘Anything I can get you?’
Didn’t they teach nursing students not to tease their patients? ‘I’d kill for a strong coffee right about now.’
‘Nil by mouth, I’m sorry. At least until after Mr McNamara has seen you, and then only if you’re not having surgery.’
‘I totally get it. It’s called wishful thinking.’ Talk about getting more than her share of apologies today. Cameron Roberts had looked and sounded more than apologetic, with tiredness and stress blinking out at her from those coffee-brown eyes peeking from under a mass of wayward blond curls. Bet those gorgeous twins were more than a handful. Trouble and twins were synonymous. She had first-hand experience of that.
The nurse smoothed the already smooth bedcover. ‘If you want anything, call me. There are some magazines lying around somewhere but they’re years out of date.’
‘I’m fine.’ She could pretend, couldn’t she?
‘Great.’ The student flashed another smile and went to charm another patient, leaving her in relative peace to contemplate her situation. Which was looking rather dire.
Stuck. That’s what she was. Stopped in her tracks, all because of a boy on an out-of-control skateboard. He’d wrecked everything. Like she’d slammed into a brick wall and there was no way round. She’d wanted to yell at those boys, tell them they should’ve been looking where they were going, not shouting and taunting each other to go faster. She did remember turning to see what the noise was about seconds before the boy—Marcus?—had crashed into her. But in all reality she’d been miles away, unaware of much except that boat heading out and the sun on her face.
The boys had looked so repentant. They’d also appeared as if they’d had enough of being told off and wanted to be given a break. She totally knew what