told him, and then hesitated, thinking it through. ‘Cal, we need to check the birth site anyway. We might have a girl somewhere who’s in real trouble.’
‘We might at that,’ Cal said grimly—and then added, more enigmatically, ‘And that’s only the start of it.’ He motioned to Mike. ‘Mike, you go with Gina. I’ll stay with the baby.’
Mike nodded. Until then the paramedic had worked almost silently alongside them, but he was obviously aware of undercurrents. He looked at Gina now, a long, assessing glance, and then he looked across to where CJ was intent on his drawing.
‘Is this your son?’ he asked her. ‘Will he be coming back with us, too?’
Cal hadn’t noticed CJ. He’d been preoccupied with the baby and with Gina, and CJ had had his head down, drawing dust pictures. Now his eyes jerked over to where the little boy knelt in the dust.
CJ was totally intent on the task at hand, as he was always intent on everything he did. Pete had been showing him the traditional way aboriginals depicted kangaroos and he was copying, dotting the spine of his kangaroo with tiny white pebbles. Each stone was being laid in order. His drawing of the kangaroo was three feet high—or three feet long—and it’d take many, many pebbles to complete it, but that wouldn’t deter CJ.
So for now he knelt happily in the dust, a freckle-faced, skinny kid with a crop of burnt red curls that were coiled tight to his head. With deep brown eyes that flashed with intelligence.
With hair and with eyes that were just the same as his father’s.
They all saw Cal’s shock. Gina watched his eyes widen in incredulity. She could see him freeze. She could see the arithmetic going on in his head.
She could see his life change, as hers had changed with CJ’s birth. Or maybe before that.
As it had changed the day she’d first met Cal.
‘Hey, the kid’s hair is just the same as yours,’ Pete said easily—and then he fell silent. He, too, had sensed the tension that was suddenly almost palpable.
‘It’s great hair,’ Mike said, with a long, hard stare at Cal. Then he recovered. A bit. ‘OK.’ He stared at CJ for another long moment—and then turned back to Gina. ‘You said your name is Gina? I’m assuming you’re a doctor?’ Cal had been working with her as an equal and her medical training must have been obvious.
‘That’s right. I’m a cardiologist from the States.’ But Gina was hardly concentrating on what she was saying. She was still watching Cal.
‘Then let’s get this birth site checked, shall we?’ Mike said, taking charge because neither of the two doctors seemed capable of taking charge of anything. ‘There are questions that need answers all over the place here.’ He directed another long, hard stare at Cal—and then he took another look at CJ. ‘So maybe we’d better start working on them right now.’
The flight back to Crocodile Creek was fast. They put CJ in the passenger seat next to Mike—helicopter copilot was a small boy’s dream—and Gina and Cal were left in the back to tend to the baby.
But there was scarcely room for both of them to work, and for the moment there was little enough for both to do. It was Gina who opted out, Gina who sank into a seat and harnessed herself in for the ride and Gina who said, ‘He’s your patient, Cal.’
Which was fine, Cal thought as he monitored the little one, adjusting the oxygen rate, listening to the baby’s heart, fighting to keep him stable.
The baby was his patient.
Gina’s son was…was…
Hell, he couldn’t take it in. It was overwhelming. The sight of the little boy had knocked him so hard he still felt as if he’d been punched.
How could Gina have borne a child—his child?—and not told him?
Could it be a mistake? Was he jumping to conclusions? Somewhere there was a husband. He knew that. A husband with coiled red hair the same as his? And eyes that looked like his?
He glanced across at Gina. She looked older, he thought. Much, much older than the last time he’d seen her.
He remembered the first time he’d seen her. She’d just arrived in Townsville, a young doctor from the States come to try her hand at Outback medicine. She’d been thin—almost too thin—her green eyes almost too big for her pinched, white face, and with her riot of deep brown curls tied back in a casual knot that had accentuated her pallor. He’d thought she seemed too young, too frail to take on the job she had applied for.
But over the year she’d been with the Remote Rescue Service, she’d proved him wrong. She’d fast become an important member of the service. She gave her all. She’d thrown herself into her work with total enthusiasm and skill. With basic training in cardiology, she’d proved an indispensable member of their team, and the rest of the doctors had only been able to wonder what had driven her from her high-powered training to life in far north Queensland.
‘I had a relationship that didn’t work out. It was…a bit of a drama.’ It was all anyone had been able to get from her. She didn’t talk about her past.
But finally she did talk, though still not of her background. As they’d worked together over the ensuing months, the pinched, wan look had disappeared and she’d blossomed. She’d gained weight, her eyes had lost their haunted look and had filled with life and laughter, and she’d brought life and joy to…
To his world.
He’d thought her the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He glanced again at her now. Her hands were clasped on her knees. She was staring straight ahead, unseeing.
She seemed haunted again, he thought. She was too damned thin again. The bloodstained clothes made her look like the victim of some disaster, and he had a sudden feeling that she’d look like that even without them.
He didn’t know her, he thought bleakly. He had no idea what was happening behind that blank mask. She’d walked away from him five years ago and he hadn’t seen her since. His only phone call had elicited a brutal response.
‘I’m married, Cal. My husband needs me. Absolutely. I can’t talk to you any more.’
Married. Married.
He needed to concentrate on his job. His fingers were lying lightly against the baby’s neck, monitoring his vital signs by touch as well as by sight, but there was still time and still room for him to look at her again. She wasn’t looking at him. She was staring down at her hands. She was wearing a plain gold wedding ring. Her fingers had clenched to white.
Why had she come?
Questions. There were questions everywhere. But for now only one mattered, he told himself.
Would this little one live?
He dragged his eyes away from Gina, back to the baby.
Needful or not, he’d continue to monitor him by sight, he decided. And by every other sense—because there was no way he could bear to look at Gina.
And
