LITMIR.BIZ

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Maisie stared at Harry. The whole room held its breath.

      And then Harry very tentatively picked up the well-chewed ball—and tossed it about four feet.

      Maisie pounced with dramatic flourish, reaching it before it hit the floor, but she wasn’t content with a simple retrieval. She whirled three times, tossed the ball upwards herself and caught it again—and then came back and dropped it at Harry’s feet again.

      And, unbelievably, Harry giggled.

      ‘I’ll buy the dog,’ Jack muttered, and the receptionist grinned.

      ‘She’s not for sale. Kate values her above diamonds. Go and watch her if you like. Harry and Maisie are safe with me.’

      They were. Jack watched the little boy a moment longer and felt himself relax, which was something he didn’t think he’d done once, not since his brother had died. The dog was taking care of Harry and the relief was immeasurable.

      ‘Go,’ the receptionist said gently, and her message was unmistakeable. It’s better if you’re not here. Let these two bond.

      She was right. Harry didn’t need him; since the accident he hadn’t seemed to need anyone.

      If one dog could make a difference …

      He’d tried a puppy; he’d tried almost everything. But now … Whatever this crazy dolphin-mantra place was, this dog was breaking through.

      Dr Jack Kincaid didn’t need to be told again.

      He went.

      It was time to leave the water; time for the reality of death to hit home. As wonderful as this place was, it was simply time out. Toby was dead. His mother now had to start facing a world without him.

      Kate’s arm was around Amy’s waist as they made their way from the shallows. The world was waiting. Officialdom would move in and there was nothing Kate could do to protect Amy from it.

      But at least she’d had this time. At least the week before Toby’s death hadn’t been filled with hospitals, drips, rush. Her dolphins had helped.

      She turned for a moment as she reached the beach; they both did. Far out in the deep water, Hobble still seemed to be watching them. He was doing sweeping curves at the outer limits of the pool. At the far reaches of each curve he leaped from the water towards them, and then dived deep, again and again.

      ‘Thank you,’ Amy whispered toward him, and who knew if the dolphin could understand. But no matter what their level of understanding, the dolphins had helped ease one little boy’s passing.

      Kate had more patients waiting. She needed to move on, but what had just happened had eased the pain around her own heart a little as well.

      Jack walked over the ridge of sandbank just as the two women turned to walk up the beach. Two women and a child. The women were dressed in plain blue stinger suits. The child was in a wetsuit.

      The child was dead.

      Jack Kincaid had been a doctor long enough to sense it even as he saw it. The child was cradled in the shorter woman’s arms, the woman was sobbing, and every step they took spelled defeat.

      What the …?

      He broke into a run. If the child had gone underwater, it might not be too late. Why wasn’t anyone doing CPR? Had they tried and failed? In children there was sometimes success when all hope was lost. He had his phone out, hitting the emergency quick-dial, thinking paramedics, oxygen, help …

      ‘Don’t phone.’ The taller woman’s voice was a curt command, urgent enough to make him pause. The other woman was sinking to her knees, still cradling the child. ‘What the hell …?’

      ‘It’s okay.’

      What sort of crazy was this? He reached them and he would have knelt by the child but the woman held him back.

      ‘I’m Dr Kate,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry you had to see this but, believe me, it’s okay.’

      ‘How can it be okay?’

      ‘Toby’s had cancer,’ she said, softly so as not to break into the other woman’s grief. She took his arm, drawing him away a little, giving woman and child space. ‘He’s had brain metastases. He was terminally ill. This afternoon he’s been playing with the dolphins, he had a seizure and he died. There was nothing we could do.’

      ‘Did you try?’ Jack demanded, incredulous. A seizure … He thought of all the things that could be done in a major city hospital, the drugs that could stop a seizure, the resuscitation equipment. ‘Surely …’

      ‘Amy wanted it this way,’ Kate said. ‘She has the right to make a choice on behalf of her son and I think it was a good one.’ She hesitated and then glanced at her watch. ‘You’ll be Harry’s guardian,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I’m running late but you understand …’ She gestured to woman and child. ‘Some things have to take precedence. Has Maisie settled your Harry?’

      Maisie … the dog. She was depending on her dog to settle a new patient?

      But, then, Maisie had settled Harry, better than ever he could have.

      ‘Yes,’ he conceded, dragging his eyes away from the distraught mother and child.

      ‘I’m glad,’ she said, and she smiled.

      And in that moment time stood still. What the …?

      He knew this woman! He knew her very well indeed.

      Dr Catherine Heineman. They’d been students together. Tutorial partners. Friends.

      He hadn’t seen her since … since …

      ‘You’re … Doctor Kate?’ His tone was incredulous.

      ‘I’m Kate Martin,’ the woman said simply. ‘Dr Kate Martin.’

      ‘You’re Cathy.’

      Her face lost its colour. She stared up at him and took an instinctive step backward.

      ‘What nonsense is this?’ He’d read the blurb for the dolphin sanctuary. The healing part of it was run by one Dr Kate Martin, this woman. According to the blurb she had qualifications in physiotherapy and counselling. Deeply suspicious, he’d checked, but the qualifications had been conferred by one of the most prestigious universities in New Zealand.

      That didn’t fit at all with what he was seeing here now, with what he knew. This woman was in her early thirties maybe. He’d last seen Cathy in her early twenties but it didn’t stop him knowing her.

      ‘You’re Cathy,’ he said again, and he saw her flinch.

      ‘I can explain.’

      She’d better. Counsellor with training in psychology? Physiotherapist? Had she abandoned her medical degree and retrained in another country? Under another name? Why? Had she been struck off the medical register?

      He stared at her and saw shadows. She was five feet eight or so, and a bit too thin. At university he’d thought her attractive. Very attractive. Now she looked … gaunt? Her chestnut hair was tugged into a practical knot. Her blue all-in-one stinger suit was deeply unflattering. Her green eyes, which had flashed with laughter when he’d messed up a lab trial or someone had made a joke, didn’t look like they did much laughing now.

      Unregistered? Hiding? Why?

      Drugs? Drug-taking was the most common reason for doctors being deregistered and instinctively his gaze fell to her arms, looking for track marks. The sleeves of her stinger suit were pulled up. Her forearms were clean, but she saw where his gaze went and stepped back as if he’d struck her.

      ‘It’s not what you think. I can explain.’

      ‘You’d better.’ If he’d dragged Harry all the way across the country to have him treated by an unregistered doctor …

      ‘I

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