LITMIR.BIZ

      Fergus took her hands in his, drawing them down, gripping them with a warmth and strength that said he knew what she was going through. That he understood.

      Which was an illusion. No one knew what she was going through. She didn’t understand it herself. She felt herself being drawn. She had no strength to fight him. She’d been fighting to be solitary for so long—to stay aloof.

      She didn’t need this man to hug her. She didn’t need anyone. But she didn’t fight him. For this moment she needed him too much. Human contact. That was all it was, she thought fiercely. Warmth and strength and reassurance. It was an illusion, she knew, but for now….

      For now she let herself be held. She let her body melt against his, letting him take a weight that had suddenly seemed unbearable. He was strong and firm and warm. His lips were touching her hair.

      She should pull away, but she couldn’t. For now she needed this too much.

      CONTENTS

      PROLOGUE

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER TWELVE

      CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      PROLOGUE

      HE MADE the decision at two in the morning. There’d been no serious car crashes in the last few hours. No appendices or aneurisms, no ruptures, assaults or dramas. Night shift at City Central was deathly quiet.

      He wanted it to be more so. No less than four nurses and one intern had used the lull to ask him how he was coping. ‘No, really, Dr Reynard, if you’d like to talk about it…’

      He didn’t. He glowered at everyone who came close, he settled himself in the staff lounge, and he concentrated on his reading. Specifically, he concentrated on reading the ‘Appointments Vacant’ in this month’s medical journal.

      ‘Where’s Dimboola?’

      ‘My aunty lives in Dimboola,’ one of the theatre nurses ventured. ‘It’s in North West Victoria. Aunty Liz says it’s a great little town.’

      ‘Right,’ he said, and struck a line through Dimboola. There was silence while he checked a few more ads. Then: ‘Where’s Mission Beach?’

      ‘North Queensland,’ the same nurse told him. ‘You remember Joe and Jodie?’

      ‘Joe and Jodie?’

      ‘Joe was the paediatric intern here last year. Big, blond guy almost as hunky as you. Six feet tall and yummy—every sensible woman’s dream.’ She grinned, but in a way that said her compliment wasn’t idle banter but was designed to cheer him up. As was everything anyone said to him at the moment. Let’s look after Fergus…

      ‘Joe married Jodie Walters from ICU,’ she continued, as she failed to elicit a smile. ‘They took a job at Port Douglas last year and that’s close to Mission Beach.’

      OK. Fergus sorted the dross and came up with the information he needed. There were people he knew close to Mission Beach.

      Another line.

      He knew the next place in the list of advertisements, and the next, and the next. More advertisements were consigned to oblivion. Then: ‘Where’s Cradle Lake?’

      Silence.

      This was hopeful. He gazed around, checking each of his colleagues for any sign of recognition. ‘Does anyone know where Cradle Lake is?’

      ‘Never heard of it,’ Graham, his anaesthetist, told him. ‘Cradle Mountain’s in Tasmania. Is it near there?’

      ‘Apparently not. It has a New South Wales postcode’

      ‘Never heard of it, then.’

      ‘No one knows it?’ Fergus demanded, and received four shakes of four heads in reply.

      ‘Great,’ he said, and the line became a circle. ‘That’s where I’m going.’

      Ginny got the phone call at two in the morning. She’d known it had been coming, but it didn’t make it any less appalling.

      Richard was ringing from his hospital bed. He hadn’t wanted her with him when he was told, and he’d waited until now to call.

      Who could blame him? Where could anyone find the courage to face news like this, much less pass it on?

      ‘They can’t do another transplant,’ he said, in a voice devoid of all emotion. ‘The specialists say there’s no hope it’ll work.’

      ‘I guessed it must be that,’ she whispered. ‘When you didn’t call earlier, I thought it must be bad news. Oh, Richard.’ She sat up in bed, trying not to cry. ‘I’ll come.’

      ‘No. Not now.’

      ‘What are you doing?’

      ‘Staring at the ceiling. Wondering how I’m going to face what’s coming. And whether I have the right to ask…’

      ‘To ask what?’

      ‘Ginny, I want to go home. Back to Cradle Lake.’

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