he would be doomed to work with the woman he didn’t really know but had been instantly attracted to in a way he’d never felt before.
It was because of the old friendship. The attraction thing. It had to be, but with any luck, after the way he’d treated her, she’d want to have as little to do with him as possible.
He was almost at the helicopter now, and could see Sam and Jack Richards, the pilot, lifting out a stretcher.
Good! That means work to do, Keanu thought, then realised how unkind it was to be wishing someone ill. But it was only when he saw the patient that he felt a flush of shame at his thoughts. It was old Alkiri, from the island of Atangi, the elder who had been one of his and Caro’s favourite people and true mentor when they had been young.
He moved closer and greeted the elder in his native language, touching the old man’s shoulder in a gesture of respect.
Even through the oxygen mask, Keanu could see the blue tinge on their patient’s lips and he wondered just how old Alkiri might be.
‘He had a fall, perhaps a TIA as apparently he’d been falling quite a lot recently.’
TIA—transient ischemic attack—often a precursor to a full-blown stroke. Had Alkiri been putting these falls down to old age? He was a private man, unlikely to seek help unless he really needed it. Yet, as Caroline’s grandfather’s boatman, he had not only lived here at Wildfire but had taken two small children under his wing. It was he who had taken them and the village children to and from the school on Atangi, teaching them things about the islands, and life itself, that to Keanu were as important as the learning he’d had at school.
He should tell Caro Alkiri was—
He stopped the thought before it went any further. It had been automatic for he knew she’d loved the old man as much as he had—and probably still would …
But he was no longer the boy who’d run through the house, calling for his friend to pass on a bit of news.
And she was no longer the girl he’d always wanted to find so he could tell—
They strapped the stretcher into the converted jeep, especially modified for just that reason, then Jack and Hettie rode back to the hospital, Sam walking with Keanu to check on any news and pass on information from the clinics on the other islands.
The scent of a nearby frangipani hung in the air, but today such a reminder that he was home didn’t soothe Keanu as it had on other days, on other such walks with Sam, or Hettie or whoever had done the clinic run.
He gave Sam the news that neither Maddie nor the FIFO nurse would be arriving the next day, assured Sam he was happy to work full time, then hesitated.
‘More?’ Sam asked quietly.
‘There is a nurse,’ Keanu answered, and something in his voice must have alerted Sam.
‘She’s a problem? Drinker? Chain smoker who’ll insist on cigarette breaks? Axe murderer?’
‘She’s a Lockhart,’ Keanu answered, and watched as Sam smiled and shook his head.
‘That doesn’t make her a bad nurse, Keanu. I assume she’s Max’s daughter, the girl you grew up with. And don’t look at me like that—nothing stays secret on this island for long.’
Sam stopped walking and turned towards Keanu, his usually smiling face set in a frown.
‘Are you saying you can’t work with her?’
‘Of course not,’ Keanu responded, possibly too quickly. ‘But the Lockhart name isn’t held in much regard here at the moment. I was wondering about the patients.’
‘Of course you were.’
Sam smiled again.
‘Considering all the good Max Lockhart and his parents and grandparents before him have done for the islands, I doubt the one bad apple will have totally ruined the name. I do hope not, because we need her. But speaking of Ian, Hettie and I discovered he’d stopped in at Raiki after he left here and took not only the locked box of drugs we kept in the clinic there, but also the clinic nurse.’
‘Why on earth?’ Keanu had trouble taking in this information. ‘Drugs, maybe—he’s on a boat, could have injuries and presumably anything he doesn’t use he’ll sell—but the nurse? I assume she went willingly.’
‘Apparently so, but it leaves Raiki without a nurse. The drugs we can replace, but she was one of the first nurses trained when Max set up the programme to help any islanders wanting to do nursing. Most of them lived in his house in Sydney while they were at university, but she was one of the few who came back here to work.’
‘But the others will be helping people even if it’s not here,’ Keanu pointed out, mainly to cover the stab of guilt he’d felt at Sam’s statement. It had reminded him that he, too, hadn’t come back—well, not until he had been reminded of his duty …
‘So, when do I get to meet her?’ Sam asked.
‘I imagine she’ll come down in the morning. She did help out soon after she arrived earlier today when we had a bloke come up from the research station with a nail from a nail gun in his foot. It wasn’t much of a test of nursing but she seemed to know what she was doing.’
Sam smiled again before walking on.
‘Poor girl!’ he said. ‘Already damned with faint praise.’
Poor girl indeed, Keanu muttered to himself. If she was still a girl everything would be okay.
Or would it?
She’d been nothing more than a girl when he’d hurt her and for all he’d told himself she wouldn’t miss his letters, and would probably be relieved not to have to write back, given all the friends she would have made at school, he’d never quite believed it.
‘I could take you up to the house and introduce you this evening if you like,’ he offered.
Sam studied him for a minute.
‘Let’s just wait for her to come to us,’ he suggested, then he grinned. ‘And let’s hope she’s early as apparently she’ll have to start work straight away.’
A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG woman with long, lustrous, dark hair piled up beneath a dodgy-looking nurse’s cap, and wearing what was apparently a uniform of green tunic and green three-quarter-length pants greeted Caroline with a smile and, ‘Can I help you?’
‘I’m looking for Sam,’ Caroline explained.
‘Rather you than me,’ the woman replied. ‘He’s in the little room he calls his office, probably setting fire to the paperwork. Straight along the passage and on the left.’
Caroline turned to follow the directions.
‘I’m Anahera, by the way, but everyone calls
