A Child To Open Their Hearts

CHAPTER THREE

THE CORAL CUTS on Max’s legs were treated by his about-to-be son-in-law. Keanu, the island doctor Max’s daughter was about to marry, greeted him with overwhelming relief, but was now insisting Max submit to his care.

It seemed Sam, the island’s chief medical officer, had had to fly out that morning, transporting an urgent case to the mainland. ‘We’re always short on medical staff,’ Keanu told him, ‘so you’re stuck with me. But I think we can get away with no stitches. Now, anaesthetic?’

‘The last thing I need is a general anaesthetic,’ Max growled. ‘And no blocks. I’ve wasted enough of my time here. I don’t intend to lie round, waiting for anaesthetic to wear off. Keanu, leave it. I can clean them myself.’

‘So who’ll explain to Caroline that you can’t give her away because your legs are infected?’ Keanu demanded. ‘Not me. You’ll let me clean them properly.’

So he had no choice. He lay back and thought about biting bullets as Keanu cleaned, disinfected and dressed his cuts.

Thankfully the cuts were on his legs and not his face, he thought. He might still manage to look okay at Caroline’s wedding.

‘You have no idea how relieved she’ll be when she finds you’re here,’ Keanu told him as he worked. ‘She’s been out at a clinic at Atangi but she’s due back any time now. Our wedding plans are all in order and now she has her dad. We were starting to think we’d have to send Bugsy down the aisle in your place.’

‘Bugsy...’

‘The dog,’ Keanu said briefly, inspecting a graze that almost qualified as a cut. ‘This one’s nasty. Hold your breath for a bit, there’s a bit of muck stuck in here.’

Max held his breath. Maybe an anaesthetic wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.

‘Dog,’ he said at last when he could concentrate on anything other than pain.

‘Bugsy, the golden retriever. He’s responsible for us finding you so fast. Hettie left him on the beach. Normally Bugsy would loll around, waiting for her to come out of the water, or go for a swim himself, but he must have figured something was wrong. He came haring up to the hospital, soaking wet. We were already worried about Sefina and Joni. Sefina had discharged herself but we knew she couldn’t go home, so when Bugsy appeared looking desperate, running back and forth to the beginning of the path to Sunset Beach, and we couldn’t find Hettie, we put two and two together and figured we needed to investigate.’

‘You let Sefina discharge herself?’

‘Junior nurse,’ Keanu said grimly. ‘But it wasn’t her fault. Short of holding Sefina by force, which was impossible, there wasn’t a lot she could do when Sefina decided to leave. She let us know as soon as she could, and then Bugsy arrived.’ He hesitated. ‘Bugsy’s a shared dog, devoted to all of us. He officially belongs to one of our fly in, fly out doctors, but Maddie’s on maternity leave right now so Bugsy’s main caregiver is Hettie.’

‘Hettie has...no one else?’

Keanu cast him a sharp look. ‘Hettie has everyone on the island.’

‘Is that a warning?’

There was a moment’s silence, and then Keanu gave a reluctant shrug. ‘I know you’re not Ian,’ he conceded. ‘I need to keep reminding the islanders.’

‘Meaning they think if I was Ian I couldn’t be trusted with anything in a skirt.’

‘Ian couldn’t be trusted with anything at all,’ Keanu said bluntly. ‘But he was your brother and Hettie tells me he’s dead. I’m sorry.’

‘Are you? Will anyone on this island be sorry?’

‘No,’ Keanu admitted bluntly. ‘Maybe Sefina might have mourned him, but now...’ He shrugged again, and then went back to focussing on Max’s knee. ‘Maybe a stitch here...’

‘Steri-Strips,’ Max growled. ‘A scar or two won’t hurt.’

‘You can always cover it with pantyhose,’ Keanu said, and grinned. ‘It’s good to have you home, Max. You’ve done so much for the island.’ And then he glanced up as the door opened a crack. ‘Hettie. Come in. That is, if Dr Lockhart doesn’t mind you seeing his bare legs.’

‘I saw a lot more than his legs out in the water,’ Hettie retorted. ‘And there’s nothing our Dr Lockhart has that I haven’t seen a thousand times before.’

‘Shall we let the lady in?’ Keanu asked.

And Max thought, What the heck? It was true, Hettie was a professional. Right now, he was a patient, she was a nurse. There was no reason he should feel odd at the idea of her seeing him dressed in a hospital gown with bare legs.

‘Sure,’ he growled, and Hettie popped in, smiling. It was a professional smile, he thought, just right, nurse greeting patient. She was in nurse’s uniform, blue pants and baggy blue top. Her curls were caught back in a simple ponytail.

She looked younger than she’d looked on the atoll, he thought, and then he thought... She looked lovely?

She wasn’t beautiful in the classical sense, he conceded. Her nose was too snub, her cheeks were strong-boned, and her mouth was maybe too generous to be termed lovely.

She was wearing no make-up.

He still thought she looked beautiful.

‘How’s Joni?’ Keanu asked, before Max could form the same question, and Hettie smiled, albeit sadly.

‘Clean and dry and fast asleep in the kids’ ward. He’s the only occupant, now that any kids with minor injuries after the storm have gone home. I left Bugsy asleep beside his cot.’

‘The dog?’ Max stared. What sort of a hospital let dogs stay in the children’s ward?

‘We have monitors,’ Hettie told him. ‘The moment Joni stirs I’ll be in there, but the first thing he’ll see when he wakes will be Bugsy. Bugsy’s a friend, and Joni...well, Joni needs all the friends he can get.’

‘What will you do with him?’ Keanu asked. Keanu was still cleaning. Hettie had moved automatically to assist, handing swabs, organising disinfectant. They were both focussed on Max’s legs, which was disconcerting, to say the least.

The question hung and suddenly Max realised Keanu was talking to him.

What will you do with him?

‘He’s not mine to do anything with,’ Max growled, and Keanu raised his brows.

‘That’s not what the islanders think.’

‘They’ll think he’s yours,’ Hettie said. ‘I told you. He’s your brother’s child, your brother’s dead, therefore he’s your family. You don’t want him?’

‘Why would I want him?’

‘Goodness knows,’ Keanu said, and kept on working. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to be talking to two heads bent over his legs—plus talking about a child he’d only just learned existed. ‘Family dynasty or something?’ Keanu suggested. ‘He is a Lockhart.’

‘I have no proof he’s a Lockhart.’

‘You don’t, do you?’ Hettie was concentrating—fiercely, he thought—on his legs, and yet he could tell that her thoughts were elsewhere. On a little boy in the kids’ ward. ‘He could be anyone’s.’

Yeah, but he looked like a Lockhart.

‘Is there any sort of Child Welfare in the M’Langi group?’ he asked.

‘We don’t need Child Welfare,’ Hettie snapped, and Keanu cast her a surprised look. But then he shrugged and addressed Max.

‘We don’t normally need Child Welfare,’ Keanu agreed. ‘The islanders usually look after their own, but Joni’s an exception. He’s an outsider.’

‘He’s not an outsider. He belongs here, and if Max won’t look after him, I will.’ Hettie murmured the words almost to herself, but for a murmur it had power. The words were almost like a vow.

They made Keanu pause. The doctor stood back from the table and stared at Hettie, who was still looking at Max’s legs fiercely.

‘What the...? Het, are you suggesting you adopt him?’

‘If no one else claims him, yes.’

‘You can’t decide that now.’

‘I have decided. If his family doesn’t want him, I do. I mean it. Keanu, do you want to keep cleaning or will I take over?’

Keanu stared at her for a moment longer and then silently went back to cleaning. There was a tense stillness, broken only by the sound of tiny chinks of coral hitting the kidney basin.

His legs really were a mess but, then, everything was a mess, Max thought grimly. So what was new? When hadn’t life been a mess?

For just a moment, this morning, watching the sun rise, watching the fish darting in and out of the water, watching a pod of dolphins give chase, he’d given himself time out. He’d thought, What if...?

What if he finally let himself be free?

Twenty-six years ago his wife had died on this island, giving birth to twins. He and Ellie had been babies themselves, barely twenty.

He’d met Ellie at university. They’d both been arts students, surrounded by friends, high on life. They’d fallen in love and when they’d discovered a baby was on the way they’d accepted the pregnancy with all the insouciance of youth.

‘Maybe it’s not a mistake,’ Ellie had told him. ‘Maybe we’re meant to be a family.’ The knowledge that she’d been carrying twins had only added to their feeling of excitement.

‘How do you feel about marrying on Wildfire?’ he’d asked, and she’d been ecstatic.

‘The Lockhart family home? Your real-life island? Max, can we?’

They could, but not until summer vacation. They’d travelled to the island as soon as exams had ended. Ellie had been thirty-two weeks pregnant, excited about her pregnancy, excited about her sheer bulk.

He remembered their welcome. His mother had been wild with joy at their homecoming. His father had been gravely pleased that his son had found someone so beautiful to wed. No one had worried that Ellie had been pregnant at the ceremony. After all, what trouble could come to this truly blessed couple?

No one had worried that twin pregnancies sometimes spelled trouble.

He remembered his brother the night before the wedding. Ian had been blind drunk, toasting him for the hundredth time. They’d lit a campfire on the beach. Ian had waved his glass towards the island and then out at the stars hanging bright and low over the ocean.

‘Here’s to us, bro. We’ve got it all.’

He’d even been stupid enough to agree. The next day, he’d married. They’d danced into the small hours.

Ellie had gone into labour that night.

There had been no medical centre on the island then. They’d faced an agonising wait for medical evacuation, while Ellie had bled and bled.

She’d died before help arrived. The twins, Caroline and Christopher, had survived, but prematurity and birth trauma meant Christopher would be burdened with cerebral palsy for the rest of his life.

Christopher. His son.

‘Family dynasty or something? He is a Lockhart.’

No. Christopher was his son, he thought grimly. Not some child called Joni. How could he ever want another child?

He closed his eyes and Keanu paused again.

‘If this is hurting too much, let me knock you out.’

‘Just go for it.’

There was silence as Keanu started work again. Undercurrents were everywhere, Max thought, gritting his teeth against the pain.

‘Het, you won’t be able to just...adopt him,’ Keanu said at last into the stillness. ‘You’ll have to go through channels. If it’s really what you want then we’ll support you, but you’re not deciding this today. This suggestion seems right out of the blue. It’s a huge decision and there are legal channels to be dealt with. You know we come under Australian legal jurisdiction. If Joni doesn’t have relatives on the island...’ Here he cast a quick glance at Max. ‘As the island’s acting medical director, I’ll need to report Sefina’s death and Joni’s status to the mainland authorities. A kid like Joni...there’d be mainland couples lined up to adopt a toddler like him. You’ll need to plead some special case to be allowed to keep him.’

‘Sefina was my friend,’ Hettie told him.

‘Sefina was your patient.’

‘I let her down.’

‘We all let her down but her death is not our fault. I’m not about to let a guilty conscience force you into adoption.’

‘I’m not being forced.’

‘Why would you want to adopt?’ Max asked, and they both paused in their work, as if they’d forgotten he was there.

Maybe they should have had this discussion without him, Max thought. After all, it had nothing to do with him. Just because it was Ian’s child...

This little boy is yours.

No. He wanted nothing to do with Ian’s child.

His own son was dead. His daughter was about to be married to the man of her dreams and he might even be free of another responsibility.

All his life he’d accepted the responsibility the Lockharts had carved for themselves through generations of ownership. Every spare cent he’d earned had been ploughed back into this hospital. He’d worked so hard...

But now... In the next couple of days Max would meet the man who’d funded a world’s best tropical diseases research facility and tropical resort on Wildfire. Ian had conned a Middle Eastern oil billionaire—a sheikh, no less—into purchasing island land for the resort, but the sale had been built on forged signatures and falsehoods. Island land was held in a Lockhart family trust for perpetuity and Ian had had no power to sell. Amazingly, though, once he’d known the facts, the sheikh had still been prepared to invest, leasing instead of buying. He had seemingly limitless money and resources. He was giving work to the islanders, giving hope, and for the first time since that night before his wedding, twenty-six years ago, Max was feeling a taste of freedom.

Maybe he could walk away from here and never come back.

This little boy is yours. Hettie’s words, Keanu’s words meant nothing. They couldn’t. He did not want any more responsibility.

But finally Hettie was answering his question. ‘I want to adopt because I can,’ she said. It was as if she’d needed time to work out her answer, but now she had it clear. ‘I’ve spent my life looking out for no one but myself. Sitting out on the atoll this morning, holding Joni, knowing Sefina was dead, it crowded in on me. I give nothing. I love...nothing. If I can have Joni... I will love him, Keanu. I promise.’

‘But it won’t be up to me,’ Keanu told her, giving her a searching look. ‘We’ll report Sefina’s death to the authorities and see what happens.’

‘I won’t let him leave the island.’

‘Het, the islanders won’t accept him,’ Keanu said gently. ‘He’s Ian’s child and Ian robbed them blind.’

‘He’ll be my child.’

‘Let’s see what the authorities say.’ Keanu fastened a last dressing on Max’s legs. ‘There you go, Dr Lockhart. All better. You’re free to go.’

Free to go...

It sounded okay to him, Max thought, swinging his legs gingerly from the examination table. Hettie held his arm while he stood, and he had the sense to let her. Lying supine during medical procedures could make anyone dizzy.

And dizziness did come, just a little, but it was enough for him to be grateful for Hettie’s support.

She was small and slight. She’d been through an appalling experience, too, and yet he could feel her strength. She was some woman. How many women would have backed up such a morning with heading into work; with continuing to keep going?

With offering to adopt a child?

‘Are you okay?’ Hettie asked, sounding worried.

She was worried about him?

‘I’m fine. Just a bit wobbly.’

‘Take your time,’ Keanu told him. ‘We’ll find you a bed in the ward.’

‘If you can find me some clothes I’ll head up to the house.’ His clothes were either in the water or on board the boat. And where was his boat?

‘You need someone to keep an eye on you,’ Hettie said. ‘With those legs, you need care. I’m not sure where Caroline is...’

And, as if on cue, the doors to the theatre swung open. Caroline burst through the doors, looking frantic.

‘Dad,’ she said as she saw him. ‘Oh, Dad...’ And she flung herself into his arms and burst into tears.

Hettie stepped back.

‘You’ll be okay now,’ she said softly. ‘You’re with your family.’

And she walked out and left him with his daughter.

* * *

Keanu was waiting as Hettie finished her interview with the local constabulary. He’d protested as she’d donned her nurse’s uniform instead of civvies the moment she’d reached the hospital. Now, though, with Max settled with his daughter and Joni asleep, there seemed no reason for her to stay. The hospital on Wildfire had settled to a new norm. Without Sefina.

Hettie could hardly think of Sefina without wanting to be sick. Of all the senseless deaths...

‘There’s nothing more you can do, Het,’ Keanu told her as the policeman left. The young doctor was starting to sound stern. ‘You’ve had an appalling shock. For you and Max to save Joni was little short of miraculous. You need to give your body time to recover. Take Bugsy home with you and sleep.’

‘How can I sleep? Keanu, we failed her.’

‘The island failed her,’ he said. ‘The islanders hated Ian Lockhart, and Sefina was someone they could vent that anger on.’

‘It wasn’t her fault.’

‘We all know that. Even the islanders know that. It was only her husband who was overtly cruel and he’ll be prosecuted. Now you need to take care of you.’

‘I’ll stay with Joni.’

‘Not on my watch, Het,’ he said, even more firmly. ‘Joni’s a problem we need to solve but not now, not when you’re emotionally distraught. If I let you stay with him all the time it’ll tear your heart out when he leaves. I don’t know where your offer of adoption came from, but it’s crazy. You know it is. You haven’t had time yet even to absorb the enormity of Sefina’s death. So let’s be professional. We’re taking care of him. Go home.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘I’ll give you something to help you sleep,’ he said, as if he hadn’t heard her objection, and he took her shoulders and propelled her to the nurses’ station. ‘But you’re signing off now and that’s an order.’

* * *

It was all very well, following orders, but Hettie needed to work. She was exhausted but work seemed the only way to get the events of the morning out of her head.

She couldn’t—but neither could she get rid of this certainty of what she had to do.

She’d tried hard not to get emotionally involved with her patients. Why did she suddenly, fiercely, want to adopt Joni?

Why did she need to adopt Joni?

She walked slowly around the lagoon, in no hurry to get to her neat little villa overlooking the water. The island was lush, beautiful, washed with rain. Most of the storm damage had been cleared. A few palms had fallen but tropical rain forest regenerated fast. Soon there’d be nary a scar.

Except Sefina was dead.

Maybe it’d be easier, she thought, if there was a body to bury. To keen over?

It’d be a tiny funeral if the body was ever found. Nobody here had loved Sefina.

No one would love Joni. He was Ian Lockhart’s son.

He’d be adopted off the island, she thought bleakly. Here he’d never get over the stigma of being Ian’s son. He’d never be accepted.

‘I could make him be accepted.’ She said it out loud but even as she said it she faced its impossibility. On this island Joni was an illegitimate outsider. He always would be.

‘But I want him.’

Why? She sank onto a fallen log and stared sightlessly over the lagoon. Why did she want, so fiercely, to hug Joni to her? To hold?

Her maternal instinct was long dead. Killed by Darryn...

‘Oh, get over it.’ She rose and stared out at a heron standing one legged at the edge of the water. She often saw this guy here. He was a lone bird.

‘And that’s what I am, too,’ she told herself. ‘Today was an aberration. Joni will find himself some lovely parents on the mainland who’ll love him to bits. And I...’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’ll take the pills Keanu gave me and go to sleep. And I’ll wake up in the morning feeling not maternal at all. I’ll feel back to normal.’

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