The Doctor's Society Sweetheart (3 page)

‘Impressive,’ Dart said as he started to tidy up the area they’d been working in.

Emmy smiled brightly, thrilled that he’d noticed her attempts to help and adapt. That was why he’d made the comment, right? She shook her confusion away, deciding to take his words in a positive light. ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ she commented.

‘Thank you so much for the vote of confidence,’ he drawled dryly, glancing over at her. Her bright smile lit her face completely, her eyes sparkling, her perfectly pink lips wide, showing off straight white teeth. The woman really was extraordinarily beautiful. Dart cleared his throat and looked away, keeping his tone dry and impersonal. ‘It means so much.’

There was no sarcasm detectable in his tone and again she thought she saw that irrepressible curve of his lips so Emmy wasn’t sure whether he was joking or being serious. She’d worked alongside him, noting the way he was kind and considerate to every patient, treating each person as though they were important whether they were there for a check-up or something more serious, like a congenital heart defect. However, she had yet to figure the man out.

Not that figuring out the inner workings of Dart’s mind
was essential to her job here—it wasn’t—but ever since she’d arrived Emmy had been intrigued by the man beside her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on just why she felt that way but it was there, simmering low and deep within her.

She pushed it aside. She was here to focus on her job, on doing an important piece for the network on the plight of the Tarparnese people and those dedicated and brave people who offered help and support. That was all that mattered for the next week.

‘QaH!’
P’Ko-lat called, and Emmy recognised the Tarparniian word for ‘help’. It was a word she’d heard quite often that afternoon yet it was the urgency in the receptionist’s tone that made Dart stop what he was doing and rush to see what was happening.

‘Look.’ P’Ko-lat pointed to where two men were coming through the trees into the village clearing, carrying an injured man between them. Dart rushed over to look at his latest patient. He sucked in a breath, shook his head and then muttered directions in Tarparnese, pointing to the medical hut.

‘Get me some gauze,’ he called to her, as he quickly pressed his hand to the injured man’s abdomen which, as they drew closer, Emmy realised was covered in blood. She did as he said and handed him the gauze as he walked past. He pressed it to the wound and yet it was soaked within less than a minute.

‘Belhara, Tarvon,’ he called as P’Ko-lat held open the door to the medical hut. Emmy watched as the two men ran across into the medical hut, the door closing behind them. A moment later Hunklu came out, a little dazed at being evicted from where he’d been resting. P’Ko-lat helped Hunklu as Gloria came racing over.

‘What is it? What’s happening?’ Emmy asked, interested to find out more and annoyed she didn’t speak the language.

‘Emergency. Probably a gunshot wound.’ Gloria disappeared
inside the hut as the two men who had been carrying their friend emerged.

Gunshot. Emmy’s eyes widened at this news. Guns were not her favourite thing. She knew there were soldiers, she knew the country was in a state of political unrest, but why had this man been shot? She motioned to her TV crew and together the three of them headed to the hut.

Opening the door and stepping inside, unsure of what reception she’d receive from Dart, Emmy was transfixed by the sight of Dart and Tarvon working to stabilise their patient. Gloria was cutting off the man’s camouflage and Belhara was getting his equipment set up to provide anaesthesia when the time came for Dart to operate. All of them had hastily pulled on thin protective gowns over their clothes, the tapes flapping untied behind them.

She looked down at the patient, seeing the red area where the bullet had entered his body. Guns were bad, they could cause so much distress, and like a wave of sickness, Emmy felt a heaviness from her past settle over her. She closed her eyes and worked hard at controlling her emotions, staying in control. The past was the past and that’s exactly where it would remain.

‘If you’re here to help…’ Dart’s deep, resonant voice broke through her control and she instantly opened her eyes, meeting his dark brown glare. ‘Then grab me a bag of saline. If you’re here to gawk, get out.’

Emmy looked at her crew. ‘You heard the doctor. Out.’ She knew they would already have shot some footage so they exited the hut without complaint. She returned her attention to Dart. ‘Saline? Coming right up, Doctor.’ She headed over to where she’d seen it stored earlier and passed it to him.

‘Thanks.’

Taking that as a sign that her presence was acceptable, Emmy hurried to the wash basin and cleaned her hands,
pulling on a gown and a pair of gloves. She was determined to be helpful whether Dart really wanted her here or not.

As the rest of the team worked, she handed Gloria the drapes and prepared the iodine so that the wound site could be sterilised before surgery. She passed Belhara the vials he couldn’t quite reach and set up the operation tray for Dart.

As she tied Dart’s mask in place, the patient now anaesthetised and ready for surgery, Emmy ignored the warmth radiating from his close proximity. She’d already tied Tarvon’s mask in place and had felt absolutely nothing like this. Why did she only get this feeling when she was next to Dart?

Emmy swallowed over the dryness in her throat, trying not to breathe in the subtle spicy scent that surrounded him. Her fingers fumbled with the tapes, turning into a bunch of uncooked sausages as he bent down slightly, her on tiptoe, so she could reach.

He wished to goodness she’d hurry up and not because he was in any sort of pain from bending down. The sweet, fresh scent she wore, probably something extremely expensive that cost his entire year’s salary, was winding its way about him, starting to infuse his senses with the need to draw her closer and breathe in more deeply.

That was the last thing he needed, to want to draw this woman closer. He’d been doing his best all day long to keep her at a firm distance but when he’d required help earlier in the clinic, he’d had to put up with her at his side. The same thing was happening now. Her help since she’d walked in the door had been great but right now he didn’t need to be distracted with thoughts of what scent she was wearing when he needed to focus on removing a bullet from his patient’s abdomen.

‘Done. Sorry. Didn’t mean to take so long.’ She spoke near his ear, her breath fanning down his neck, and Dart immediately straightened, stepping closer to the table, hands held
up, eyes looking down at his patient, brain processing the fact that his body was reacting to Emerson’s nearness more than it had reacted to any woman in the past six years.

Dart cleared his throat as she moved away to stand next to Gloria, pleased she wasn’t crowding him any more. Perhaps now he could school his thoughts to where they needed to be and not on the TV socialite who had seemingly come into this village to create havoc in any way she could. He knew that wasn’t exactly true but it was certainly the way it felt.

‘Belhara?’ He looked at the anaesthetist.

‘Ready.’

Dart held out his hand. ‘Scalpel.’ It was a surgery he’d performed far too many times since he’d started coming to Tarparnii. All of them knew the drill.

‘Do you remove a lot of bullets?’ Emmy asked into the silence.

‘Yes,’ Dart responded.

‘Too many,’ Tarvon concurred sadly.

‘If we’re not suturing gashes or cuts, we’re delivering babies or removing bullets,’ Dart continued.

Gloria nodded. ‘Rick’s even performed a few teeth extractions.’

Both Dart and Tarvon agreed with this.

‘So, really, you become “bitsa” doctors out here. Bits of this and bits of that.’

Dart looked up and held her gaze for a moment, surprised she understood. ‘Exactly. It doesn’t matter what your speciality might be, whether you’re a surgeon or an obstetrician, a clinic nurse or an experienced midwife. Out here, everyone does what needs to be done to the best of their ability.’ Dart held out his hand. ‘Forceps.’

Within a few more seconds he’d removed the bullet from the wound and Tarvon was packing it with gauze. After tidying up the area and ensuring none of the patient’s vital
organs had been ruptured, Dart started to close the wound in layers.

‘How’s he doing, Belhara?’

‘Very good, Dart.’

‘Excellent. Right.’ Dart stood back from the patient and started to peel off his gloves. ‘Must almost be time for the celebrations.’

‘Celebrations?’

‘Your welcome-to-the-jungle party,’ Dart remarked as he finished degowning.

‘I’m sorry. I’m afraid I still don’t understand.’ Emmy shook her head slightly as she, too, removed her gown. Dart pointed to the door and it wasn’t until she’d opened the door that she realised night had fallen.

Outside, the centre of the village had undergone a transformation. Gone were the clinic tents, packed away until they were next needed. The ground had been swept with a stiff broom made of sticks, the area free of twigs and leaves. Food was being prepared, the enticing aromas filling the air, and a large bonfire was being stacked.

Everywhere people were working, busy either stringing flowers to make garlands or rolling some sort of tree sap which Emmy realised were being turned into candles. Some patients had stayed, others had returned to their own villages. She spied her own crew, taking footage of everything.

‘A welcome-to-the-jungle party.’ She shook her head and turned to look at Dart. ‘This is all for us?’

‘For you and your crew? Yes.’ He’d watched her closely as she’d taken in the hub of activity before them. Where he’d thought she would expect such preferential treatment, she’d surprised him instead by appearing quite moved.

She clutched her hands to her chest and slowly exhaled. ‘Never have I felt so welcomed anywhere in my life as I do
here.’ The words were softly spoken and Dart realised the emotions she was displaying weren’t at all artificial.

She swallowed over the lump in her throat and looked at him again, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘This place is…magical.’

Dart frowned and forced himself to look away from the enticing picture she made. There weren’t many people who came here and saw this country, this village, these people in the same way he did, and now it appeared that Ms Emerson-Rose Jofille was one of them.

E
MMY
smothered a yawn, trying to be discreet in case anyone thought she was being rude or that she was bored. She most certainly wasn’t the latter, especially as the village had held a campfire banquet in their honour. She and her crew of two, consisting of Mike, her sound man and Neal, her cameraman, had been made to feel like royalty, everyone in the village welcoming them with open arms.

Everyone, that was, except for Dart Freeman.

The man had been brisk and standoffish, especially during the past few hours since the festivities had begun. Emmy was still trying to rack her brains to figure out what she might have done wrong.

Hunklu had stayed for the campfire celebrations, continually offering her the lovely fruits and vegetables they grew in the village as well as pieces of a corn-type bread she’d seen some of the ladies making earlier.

Hunklu had been highly attentive and even though they didn’t speak the same language, with a lot of gesturing they’d been able to communicate quite effectively. Dart, on the other hand, had kept his distance and even now Emmy could see him on the other side of the fire where he sat surrounded by children, talking to Jalak. The children clearly adored him and it made Emmy realise that there was something about the man that was good and proper because children were
often quite good judges of character, able to pick a phoney a mile away.

‘He is a quiet man,’ Meeree said as she came and sat on the log next to Emmy.

‘Huh? Pardon?’ Emmy dragged her gaze away from the enigmatic Dart and smiled warmly at the woman beside her.

‘He does what needs to be done with no fuss.’

Emmy nodded. ‘A quiet achiever.’ That label seemed to fit him perfectly somehow.

‘You are most perceptive, Emmy. Even today he has done much for so many people.’

‘He didn’t go out to the other village with the rest of his medical team.’ Emmy allowed her gaze to stray back to where Dart sat. ‘Why not?’

Meeree smiled. ‘He was the only one who could do the clinic today on his own. He has the experience. He is also PMA leader and must be here to meet you first.’

It was food for thought. He’d had to stay behind because of her. Was that why he’d been standoffish? All but ignoring her? ‘How many people came to the clinic this morning?’

‘Almost fifty,’ Meeree supplied, and Emmy gasped. She’d seen for herself how hectic clinics could be.

‘How…how did he finish by the time we arrived just after midday?’ She now openly stared at Dart and when he looked her way she didn’t turn away but held his gaze.

‘He began well before the sun was bringing us heat.’ Meeree held out a bamboo jug in order to refill Emmy’s cup but she declined.

‘Thank you but I’ve had too much already. You and your people have been so generous.’

‘It’s their way,’ a deep voice said next to her. She turned and there, standing on the other side of her, was Dart, a small baby, only about a month or so old, asleep in his arms. Emmy
stared up at him, almost getting a crick in her neck he was so tall. ‘They may not have much but what they do have they willing share with all who come to the village.’

Meeree stood and indicated that Dart should sit. ‘I must check on others.’

Emmy wanted to delay Meeree, to ask her to stay so that she wasn’t left alone in the glow of the campfire with the handsome but annoying Dart Freeman. Well, she had been in plenty of situations in the past where she’d had to call on her finishing-school training when faced with a situation she wasn’t all that happy with.

After taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to gain control over her body and mind, Emmy pasted a smile on her face. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t really see it, given the lack of bright light, she knew it was there and it was like a barrier that would protect not only her from him but him from her.

‘So, please tell me, Dr Freeman, how long have you been here in the village? Meeree said that you were the senior doctor for PMA?’ Emmy almost applauded herself at the way she’d managed to maintain control and open dialogue between them. If he didn’t pick it up, she could sit here quietly for a few minutes and then politely move off.

‘I’ve almost finished a twelve-week stint but I’m the PMA medic in charge in this area mainly due to the fact that I’ve been here so many times. I’ll be returning to Australia on the same flight as you and your TV crew.’ Dart didn’t look at her as he spoke, instead preferring to look straight ahead.

‘I’m terribly sorry that you had to wait around to welcome me and my crew this morning.’

Dart shrugged. ‘Just doing my job.’

He lapsed into silence for a moment, wondering why on earth he’d come over here in the first place. He should have followed his initial instincts to keep as far away from
Emerson-Rose Jofille as possible. There was something about the woman beside him, something that had called to him as he’d caught her looking his way several times that evening, but the last time…the last time she’d glanced his way, her gaze had rested on him for a long and lingering look. It was as though she’d been calling to him, beckoning him closer, and while he’d planned to resist this urge, to keep his distance, to remain highly professional where she was concerned, here he was, seated beside her, making polite small talk, something he ordinarily had no time for.

‘How many years have you been coming here?’ ‘Six.’ And if she asked him what had made him decide to come here in the first place, he would get up and walk away. He knew she was only gathering intel for her television piece, that she didn’t really care what his answers were, that she was trying to find the right angle to appeal to the viewers back home. And while he acknowledged that it was her job to do that, there was no way he was going to let her poke around in his past, or his future for that matter. Emerson-Rose and her band of merry men were like mosquitoes, buzzing around and generally annoying everyone they came into contact with.

He patted the baby’s bottom, shifting it slightly in his arms as the child slept on. He’d never been good at diplomatic relations but as PMA leader, he knew it was up to him to make sure that Ms Jofille’s stay here was a happy one, so he had to try harder at making conversation with her.

‘Uh…so what made you decide to come to Tarparnii?’ ‘My friend, Eden Montgomery. She’s worked here in the past and told me about PMA and the great work it does. Do you know her?’

Dart’s eyebrows hit his hairline. ‘As a matter of fact, I do, and her husband David.’ He held both colleagues in high esteem and was a little taken aback that they would be friends
with someone on the rich and famous list. ‘And you’re friends with Eden?’

Emmy didn’t miss the disbelief in his tone. ‘You sound surprised, Dart. You don’t think someone as wealthy and as “popular” as me has need of any friends?’

‘Um…I’m sure you do. I was just surprised, that’s all. Eden and David are…lovely people.’

‘Implying that I’m not?’ Emmy shook her head. ‘Have you ever heard the cliché “Don’t judge a book by its cover”?’

Now he’d gone and offended her. Dart rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. So much for being diplomatic.

She shifted to face him, ignoring the way his features where highlighted to perfection in the ambient glow of the fire. ‘You know, Dart, being born into wealth, having everything you’ve ever wanted simply given to you, doesn’t automatically make you happy. When your parents are too busy working, be it for their businesses or their philanthropic causes, to spend time with you.’

Emmy stopped. She was getting herself all worked up again and where she’d intended to be polite and diplomatic towards Dart Freeman, here she was blurting out personal information. She took another breath and continued in a calmer tone.

‘I may have been given every material possession, lacking for nothing while I was growing up, but I doubt either of my parents would have sat down when I was a baby and cuddled me close, just as you’re doing with this little one.’

When she was quiet he nodded, his father’s words running through his mind. ‘Son, when you’re wrong, admit it and move on.’ His father had been nothing if not a wise man. Dart cleared his throat. ‘My apologies, Emerson. I had no right to be so presumptuous. I hope you can forgive me.’

It was Emmy’s turn to be surprised as it wasn’t every day she either received an apology or was asked for forgiveness. ‘Of course I do.’ She felt the fight rush out of her. ‘I’m sorry,
too. I didn’t mean to go off on one. It’s just that on most days, with the press and paparazzi, I don’t usually get the opportunity to correct their misconceptions.’

Both of them were quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, absorbing the silence, and Emmy was a little surprised to find that she didn’t mind so much that he’d come to sit by her side.

‘What’s the baby’s name?’ she asked after a moment, delighted with the cute little baby, if less so with the picture the pair presented. Man holding sleeping baby. It was guaranteed to melt any woman’s heart.

‘J’tagnan.’ Even as Dart said the name, there was love in his tone and Emmy realised he had a special bond with this babe.

‘What a lovely name.’ Silence for a moment before she confirmed, ‘Boy?’

‘Yes.’

‘I take it he lives in this village?’

‘No.’

‘Oh?’

‘His mother…’ Dart pointed to a woman who was cutting up more fruit and placing it onto a wooden platter ‘…comes from a neighbouring village. She had to walk fifty miles in order to get here to have her baby and she was in labour almost the entire time. When she stumbled into the village, the baby’s head was crowning.’

‘She’s lucky she made it here. I’ve heard stories of women giving birth either in fields or just on the side of the road. Is that really the case?’

‘It’s true and happens all the time.’

‘J’tagnan is one of the lucky ones, then.’

‘So is his mother. She had a difficult birth and has needed constant attention for the past six weeks. Tonight is really the
first time she’s been up and about. She’s happy to be able to help out, even if it’s just cutting up the fruit.’

‘Will she head back to her own village soon?’

‘We’ll be taking her back in a few days’ time.’

‘You’ll be going?’

He nodded. ‘I need to make sure J’tagnan has everything he needs.’ Dart looked down at the little babe. ‘So many of them don’t.’

Emmy’s heart turned over at the sadness of the situation. Life here was so different from the privileged one back home in Australia and this was what she’d come here to capture. Ordinary people, living in their poverty-ridden country and all the while doing extraordinary things. ‘Would you mind if we filmed J’tagnan’s journey home?’

Dart’s mood instantly changed with her question. Where she’d felt he was thawing a little towards her, a few simple words out of her mouth changed that entirely. His walls went back up, his entire body bristled with indignation and when he spoke, his words were more curt than before. ‘These people aren’t your puppets, Ms Jofille. Their lives aren’t there simply so you can make compelling television.’

Emmy gritted her teeth but also realised that this was probably the reason why she’d been getting the cold shoulder from Dart. He didn’t want her or her crew here at all. She’d initially thought he’d had something against her on a personal level, but perhaps it was simply that he hated all film crews. Well, it didn’t matter what he thought or wanted, she was here in Tarparnii and she intended to do an amazing job on this piece so that when it aired on the network, millions and millions of people would watch, would be touched, would be galvanised into action—just as she had been when she’d first heard about the plight of the Tarparniians.

Keeping her cool and drawing on every ounce of her poise and professionalism, Emmy kept her words calm but firm.
‘As I’ve previously mentioned, it’s
Dr
Jofille, not Ms or Miss. Secondly, I have no intention of treating anyone as my puppet, Dr Freeman. Showing the good people of Australia about the situation here in Tarparnii is my key aim. I intend to ask Meeree to check with J’tagnan’s mother and if the woman agrees, there’s nothing you can do about it.

‘Besides, I would have thought you’d be delighted that someone is aiming to shine some light on life in this little island country. We need to be educating people back home, letting them know that help is still needed, that equipment and medicines are in short supply, that people are still dying in this country from diseases that don’t even exist any more in wealthy countries, such as our own, simply because we have the resources to vaccinate our children.

‘What vaccinations are available to J’tagnan? What diseases can he possibly expect to be in danger of catching within the first twelve months of his life?’

Without waiting for an answer, she continued, her voice filled with her earnest enthusiasm for this cause. ‘These are the things the Australian people want to know, Dr Freeman, and when they see what it’s like, when they begin to understand, they will dig deep into their pockets and help provide the money to purchase those vaccinations so that J’tagnan can live a long and healthy life. So that he can be clothed and educated and grow up to be a man who looks after his mother and is a functioning member of his country’s culture.’

The words she’d spoken had come from her heart and he wondered for a moment whether he hadn’t misjudged her. He allowed himself to believe that perhaps her motives for being here were honourable, that it wasn’t simply about the ratings for the television network or about how doing something like this would raise her own standing in her high-society community.

Unlike so many of her peers, it seemed that Ms Jofil—no,
Dr
Jofille—intended to not only throw money at this country so she could go to sleep with a clear conscience that she’d done her part in helping put the world to rights but that she was willing to come here, to risk her life in this country of uncertainty, to show the people back in Australia and hopefully in other countries as well of the need to be doing more than they currently were.

Even in the orangey glow of the fire, Dart could see the look of determination in her eyes, could hear the vehemence in her tone, and he could make out the unyielding posture of her body. It made him wonder what it would take for her to completely lose control. Would she be as calm and as collected during a romantic interlude?