Wildfire Island Docs. Alison Roberts

possibly in her body—and …

      And what?

      Make things right between them?

      She doubted that could ever happen. He had disappeared without a word, returned her letters unopened.

      But now she’d have to work with him. Was she supposed to behave as if the life they’d shared had never happened?

      As if his disappearance from it hadn’t hurt her so badly she’d thought she’d never recover?

      Impossible.

      She’d reached the airstrip and grabbed her case by the time she’d thought this far and as further consideration of the problem seemed just that—impossible—she put it from her mind and started up the track, feeling the moisture in the air, trapped by the heavy rainforest on each side, wrap around her like a security blanket.

      She was home, that was the main thing.

      The track from the strip to the big house led up the hill behind the hospital and staff villas.

      Staff villas?

      Keanu.

      Forget Keanu!

      For her sanity’s sake, she needed to work—she’d already sat around feeling sorry for herself for far too long as a result of another desertion.

      And another nurse would always come in handy on the island even if they couldn’t afford to pay her. She had her own place to live and some money Steve hadn’t known about tucked away in the bank.

      And wasn’t this what she and Keanu had always planned to do?

      He would become a doctor, she a nurse, and they’d return to Wildfire to run a hospital on the island. As children, they’d shared a picture book with a doctor and a nurse that had led to this childhood dream. Had it seemed more important because they had both lost a parent who possibly could have been saved if medical aid had been closer?

      Half-orphans, they’d called themselves …

      But as she hadn’t existed for Keanu once he and his mother had left the island permanently, seeing him here, and seeing him carrying out his part of their dream, had completely rattled her.

      Trudging up the track, she shook her head in disbelief at his sudden reappearance in her life, especially now when all she wanted to do was throw herself into work as an antidote to the pain of Steve’s rejection.

      Could she throw herself into work with Keanu around? Even seeing him that one time had memories—images—of their shared childhood flashing through her head.

      Helen, his mother, had died not long after leaving the island. Caroline’s father had passed on that information many years ago, but he’d offered no explanation the year Caroline had found out she wouldn’t be going to the island for her holidays as Helen and Keanu had left and there’d been no one to care for her.

      And despite her grief at Helen’s loss, she’d felt such anger against Keanu for not letting her know they were leaving, for not keeping in touch, for not telling her of his mother’s death himself, that she’d shut him out of her mind, the hurt too deep to contemplate.

      ‘I’ll take that.’

      Keanu’s voice came from behind her, deep and husky, and sent tremors down her spine, while her fingers, rendered nerveless by his touch, released her hold on the case.

      Why had he come back?

      And why now?

      But it was he who asked the question.

      ‘Why did you come back?’

      Blunt words but something that sounded like anger throbbed through them—anger that fired her own in response.

      ‘It is my home.’

      ‘One of your homes,’ he reminded her. ‘You have another perfectly comfortable one in Sydney with your father and your brother—your twin. How is Christopher?’

      She spun towards him, sorry she didn’t still have the suitcase to swing at his legs as she turned.

      ‘How dare you ask that question? As if you care about my brother. People who care for others keep in touch. They don’t just stop all communication. They don’t send back letters unopened. I was twelve, Keanu, and suddenly someone who had been there for me all my life, someone I thought was my friend, was gone.’

      Keanu bowed his head in the face of her anger, unable to bear the hurt in her eyes. Oh, he’d been angry at her reappearance, but that had been shock-type anger. He’d returned to Wildfire thinking her safely tucked away in Sydney, enjoying a busy social life.

      Then, seeing her appear out of nowhere, so much unresolved anger and bitterness and, yes, regret had churned inside him he’d reacted with anger. But that anger should have been directed at another Lockhart. It was regret at the way he’d treated her—his betrayal of their friendship—that had added fuel to the fire.

      Guilt …

      And now he knew he’d hurt her again.

      He’d learned to read Caro’s hurt early. He’d first read it in a three-year-old looking forward to a visit from her daddy, the visit suddenly cancelled because of one thing or another.

      Usually Christopher’s health, he remembered now.

      Throughout their childhood, she’d suffered these disappointments, a trip back to her Sydney home put off indefinitely because Christopher had chicken pox and was infectious. Going back to Sydney at ten when her adored grandmother had died, and learning it would be to boarding school because her father worked long hours and Christopher’s carers could not take care of her as well …

      ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, apologising for all the hurts she’d suffered but knowing two words would never be enough.

      ‘I don’t want your “sorry” now, Keanu. I’m here, you’re here, and we’ll be working together, so we’ll just both have to make the best of it.’

      ‘You’re serious about working in the hospital?’

      Had he sounded astounded that she glared at him then turned away and stalked off up the path?

      He followed her, taking in the shape of Caroline all grown up—long legs lightly tanned, hips curving into a neat waist, and long golden hair swinging from a high ponytail—swinging defiantly, if hair could be defiant.

      The realisation that he was attracted to her came slowly. Oh, he’d felt a jolt along his nerves when they’d accidentally touched, and his heart had practically somersaulted when he’d first set eyes on her, but surely that was remnants of the ‘old friends’ stuff.

      And the attraction would have to be hidden as, apart from the fact that he was obviously at the very top of her least favourite people list, he was, as far as he knew, still married.

      Not that he could blame Caro—for the least favourite people thing, not his marriage.

      They’d both been sent to boarding school while still young, she to a school in Sydney, he to one in North Queensland, but the correspondence between them had been regular and intimate in the sense that they’d shared their thoughts and feelings about everything going on in their lives.

      Then he and his mother had been forced to leave the island and there had been no way he could cause his mother further hurt by keeping in touch with Caroline.

      She was a Lockhart after all.

      A Lockhart!

      He caught up with her.

      ‘Look, no matter how you feel about me, there are things you should know.’

      She turned her head and raised an eyebrow, so, taking that as an invitation, he ventured to speak.

      ‘There’s your uncle, Ian, for a start.’

      Another