The Surgeon's Special Delivery. Fiona Lowe

your concern.’

      His determination and authoritative tone slammed into her like a truck hitting a brick wall. ‘Look, it’s very kind of you to offer but—’

      ‘It’s not a matter of kindness, it’s the best thing to do.’ His matter-of-fact voice brooked no argument.

      ‘The best thing?’ She failed to keep the incredulity out of her voice. ‘I can’t just up and leave Narranbool.’

      ‘Why on earth not?’ The derision in his voice matched the perplexity on his face.

      Because I’m the only doctor here. But she knew telling him that wasn’t going to help her cause to stay in town and have Oscar. She’d just have to hope he would respect the wishes of his brother. She cradled her hands under her stomach. ‘James and Carolyn wanted to have the baby here and I’m going to respect their wishes.’

      His brow creased in confusion. ‘So there’s another doctor in Narranbool with obstetric qualifications?’

      She skirted the question. ‘I’ve got my diploma in obstetrics.’

      The creases deepened. ‘No matter how talented a doctor you are, Tess, you cannot deliver the baby.’ He pressed his palms down onto the scoured wooden benchtop and leaned forward, the muscles in his arms taut with tension. ‘Who is going to deliver my nephew?’ His quiet words hung between them.

      My nephew. His family. Oscar’s family. She hesitated as if she teetered on the very tip of a steep mountain, knowing that no matter which way she moved, she would tumble and fall. Fall into his plan of going to Melbourne. She met his piercing gaze. ‘The midwives are experts in healthy, straightforward labours and—’

      ‘But James isn’t here to act as back-up.’ Callum’s softly spoken words exposed the flaw that now made the original plan less workable if complications did arise.

      For three days she’d been on the phone, following leads for another doctor with obstetric qualifications, but all conversations had ended in ‘No’. But she hadn’t given up hope; she still had time to find someone. Like all other outback women before her, she wanted to have her baby in her town and Oscar deserved to be born in the place his parents had adored.

      She plastered what she hoped was a reassuring smile on her face. ‘But I’m healthy and the baby is healthy so the chances of me needing a doctor are pretty slim. Worst case scenario, we’re a short helicopter ride to Mildura which is a lot better than women in Africa—’

      ‘But we’re not in Africa, we’re in Australia.’ His previously warm voice had chilled to a stony determination.

      ‘Yes, we’re in Australia, and as I pointed out I have access to emergency care if it’s needed. There are other pregnant women in this town, Callum, and I’m not suggesting to them that they all decamp to Melbourne.’

      A flash of sorrow flared in his eyes before a muscle in his jaw twitched. ‘Your job is to safeguard my nephew and I want you giving birth with the full suite of backup that modern medicine can offer on the other side of the double doors.’

      She stared at his implacable stance, his mouth set in a firm line and his arms crossed over his broad chest. Knowing that exhaustion, grief and pain were driving him, she swallowed her biting retort that she would never put his nephew at risk either. Wearily she pushed at her fringe with her fingers and stalled. ‘Let’s talk about this tomorrow, after a night’s sleep, after the funeral.’

      ‘There’s nothing more to talk about.’

      She sighed. ‘There are so many things to talk about.’ Like the fact that if I leave town, Narranbool has no doctor. The unmistakeable ring of her mobile interrupted her. She glanced at the display. ‘Excuse me, I have to take this call.’ She punched the green button. ‘Tess Dalton speaking.’

      She listened carefully as Rosie Whitherton, the director of nursing at the hospital, told her that a patient had arrived and needed to see her.

      ‘I’ll be right there.’ She snapped her phone shut, relief surging through her that work would definitely end this conversation with Callum. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go.’ She hunted around for her car keys, which always sank into the furthest corner of her voluminous tote bag.

      ‘Go where?’ His body rippled with alertness as if a ‘go’ button had just been pushed, locking down all his previous emotions.

      ‘To work.’ Her fingers touched every possible handbag item except the cool metal of keys. ‘There’s an emergency at the hospital.’

      ‘You’re on call?’ Surprise spun along his cheeks, vanishing almost as quickly as it had arrived.

      She held her breath, hoping it was a rhetorical question, wanting to keep her cover until the last possible moment.

      He shrugged and picked up his keys. ‘I’ll come with you.’

      Astonishment flipped her stomach. She needed a break from this conversation and she didn’t need Callum Halroyd with his intense stare and his questioning and organising demeanour entering her professional domain. He disconcerted her enough in the kitchen, let alone in A and E.

      She started lifting newspapers, still searching for her keys. ‘But you’re exhausted. Shouldn’t you get some sleep?’

      He exhaled a ragged breath and hooked her gaze. ‘Have you slept since you heard the news?’

      She bit her lip and shook her head. ‘Point taken.’ He needed work as much as she did right now and she couldn’t insist that he stay behind.

      Abandoning her key hunt completely, she swung her bag over her shoulder and strode purposefully to the door as much as a pregnant woman could stride. As her hand grasped the doorknob she turned back toward Callum, catching his resolute expression, which contrasted starkly with an unexpected glint in his dark eyes.

      Excitement? She suddenly saw him in a different light. Instead of grief being front and centre, an overlay of anticipation shimmered around him. Was Callum an adrenaline junkie? A doctor who worked in war zones as much for himself as for patients. Did work excite him? The thought coiled through her, settling in the back of her mind to be re-examined later.

      ‘Let’s go.’ She stepped into the hot night, half dreading and half looking forward to working with this enigmatic man.

      And that scared the hell out of her.

      * * *

      Callum assessed the small emergency department of Narranbool District Hospital through the glass panel of the door and sighed. How had James stood working in this two-horse town? The equipment looked older than some of the gear he used in Africa.

      Rosie, the DON, had greeted him and Tess with open arms and an apologetic grimace, and had immediately disappeared back to the nursing home to check on a patient. Typical country medicine—under-resourced, understaffed and underwhelming. Bush hospitals had become glorified nursing homes as mainstream surgical procedures were removed to the capital cities and larger regional centres, which had all the up-to-date equipment.

      The trip to the hospital had been quick and silent, with the exception of Tess’s husky voice giving navigating instructions. To shut out lust, Callum had made lists in his head of the things he had to organise, including pulling in a favour from a mate who was an obstetrician in Melbourne. The sooner Tess was in Melbourne the better.

      Then he could relax.

      He ignored the faint voice in his head that he was overreacting, that Tess was right about the safety of giving birth in Narranbool and that he was medicalising childbirth. James was dead and nothing he could do would change that. But he could do everything possible to safeguard James’s son.

      He rubbed his temples with his thumb and forefinger. And there was still the problem of his parents. He had no idea how to gently tell two shocked sixty-five-year-olds that they were soon to be grandparents.

      Tess grabbed a couple