Four Weddings: A Woman To Belong To / A Wedding in Warragurra / The Surgeon's Chosen Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Marriage Proposal

CHAPTER TEN

SLEEP VANISHED INSTANTLY as the smile on Tom’s face contorted to a painful grimace. Bec sat up, immediately on full alert. ‘Are you OK? You look really pale.’

He lifted her off his chest and slid off the bed, keeping his back to her. ‘Fine. I’m fine. You need to get up and get ready.’

A shiver of cold ran through her. Yesterday he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. This morning it was as if she was noxious. Don’t be ridiculous. This is Tom.

He started shoving his few clothes into his backpack. ‘We’re docking really soon. I’ll take Trang to the hospital and then I have to go to the X-ray ceremony. I have to be back in Hanoi by tonight.’

The streaks of cold froze inside her. ‘Hang on. What’s this “I have to go to the ceremony". Shouldn’t that be “we“?’

His shoulders stiffened. ‘Yes. Sorry. I’m just used to doing things on my own.’ He tossed her clothes to her, his face a blank mask. ‘Please, get dressed.’

She pulled the trousers and blouse over her underwear, gaining much-needed dignity as well as clothing. She stood up on wobbly legs as the boat continued to pitch. ‘Tom, what’s going on?’

Pain slashed his face. ‘I’m sorry, Bec.’

The words ripped through her, leaving a trail of bleeding destruction in every part of her. Her mind battled her body, not wanting to believe the change in him. There must be a reason. ‘Sorry for what, Tom?’ Please, don’t say yesterday.

‘Yesterday. I’m sorry for yesterday.’

Her legs gave way and she sat on the bed, her hands gripping the edge of the mattress. ‘Exactly which bit of yesterday are you sorry for?’

The skin tightened across his high cheekbones, taut with tension. ‘I shouldn’t have made love to you.’

Her heart shuddered. She swallowed hard, trying to keep her mind clear, not letting her pain swamp her. ‘Why not? We’re consenting adults.’

Deep furrows scored his brow. ‘Yes, but I think you’ve attached more to it than just a romp in the sand.’

He knew she loved him.

Bile scalded the back of her throat. Her body shivered uncontrollably. Wrapping her arms around herself, she threw her head up and stared into eyes that projected sympathy overlaid with guilt. She forced her words out against a constricted throat. ‘And you haven’t attached anything to it?’

Remorse blazed across his face. ‘No. I can’t attach anything to it. I can’t love you.’

Her heart shattered, searing her with burning pain. She’d trusted him. Trusted him with her story, with her friendship. Like every other man she’d known, he’d taken her trust and discarded it, as if it had no value. It was as if she’d put her hand up and said, ‘Use me.’

She gasped for breath as blackness swirled in her mind. Why, after eight years, had she dropped her guard and opened herself up for this? Stupid, stupid girl.

Men could not be trusted. Men abused. Men took. Men …

No!

This is Tom.

From the moment he’d met her he’d looked out for her. He’d insisted she pace herself workwise, he’d quietly cared for her in so many ways. He’d held her when she’d been sick, had been outraged by her father, and he’d offered her unconditional friendship. He was the most caring, gorgeous man she knew.

Yesterday he’d looked into her soul, his eyes full of reverence and adoration. Pure lust did not look like that. She had not been mistaken. There had been far more to it than just a romp in the sand.

So why was he denying that? Why was he was acting like a jerk? None of this made sense. She frantically gathered the shards of her dignity and her self-worth, forcing them together so she could get to the bottom of this and fight for something worth saving. Show him they had something worth saving.

She breathed in deeply asking the hardest question of her life. ‘Why can’t you love me?’

He spun away from her, aching inside, hating himself for putting her through this. ‘You know why.’

‘No, I don’t think I do know why. Please, explain it to me.’ Pride carried the words around the cabin.

He jerkily pulled the drawstring on his pack. ‘My life is complicated. I’ve told you that.’

‘I think you’re making it way more complicated than it needs to be.’

Each softly spoken word pierced him, hammering at everything he knew about himself. He turned to face her. She sat pale, calm and implacable, her chin jutting forward in her familiar and determined way.

He needed her to understand. Needed her to forgive him. ‘Half of me is missing. I can’t love anyone when I’m not complete myself.’

Her nostrils flared. ‘Half of you is not missing. You’re all here. You are the sum of your biological and adopted parents. Your birth parents gave you great DNA and your Australian parents gave you love and values. You’ve been blessed, Tom Bracken.’

Anger flared at her dismissal of his feelings. ‘I have a family out there somewhere that I don’t know. A heritage that is vacant.’

She didn’t flinch at his exasperation. Large eyes stared him down. ‘No one’s life is perfect. No one’s parents real or imaginary, ever live up to expectations, Tom. You’ve woven a dream around a family you want to find. But you also have a loving family in Australia you haven’t seen in two years. You have a heritage with them. A family history. Don’t turn your back on all that for a pipe dream.’

Resentment coiled in his gut as her words gnawed at him. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t turned my back on my parents. Hell, they encouraged me to come here and work and to look for my mother.’

A sad smile of understanding tugged at her lips. ‘Of course they did. They love you and want to support you. They can see you’re struggling and they want you to find some peace.’

He snorted in derision. ‘Peace. How can I have peace when I don’t know if I’m Australian or Vietnamese? When I feel disconnected, no matter where I am?’

A wry expression crossed her face. ‘Hey, you don’t have to be adopted to feel disconnected or to have a million what-if questions about your life.

‘And why do you have to be one or the other? You’re both. You belong in both countries. If your mother hadn’t given you up and you’d been raised in Vietnam, you would have all these same questions about your dead father. You’d feel more Vietnamese but know part of you was Western. Either way, you’re a blend of East and West. Embrace it.’

He wanted to put his hands over his ears, like a child refusing to listen. ‘That’s too easy. My life can’t be reduced to a simple equation.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘I don’t think you have any idea of what you really have. You’ve been so lucky.’

Her words hammered him. ‘Lucky? My mother abandoned me.’ He heard the despair in his voice.

She stood up, her gait rolling with the tossing boat, and walked over to him. ‘Your mother gave you up because she loved you more than she loved herself. She gave you up so you could live.’

She put her hand on his arm, her heat seeping into him like water into parched ground. ‘War changes all the rules. You were starving, you might have been sick with cholera and the orphanage was your only chance at survival.

‘Life is a lottery, Tom. You have to make the best of what you’ve got. I got dud parents. You got stellar parents. I fought to leave my father and you’re fighting to find your mother. But you’ve been surrounded by love all your life. Don’t turn your back on it by putting your life on hold. You once told me to stop hiding and take a chance on an adult relationship. I have. Now I’m asking you to take a chance with me. I’m here and I love you.’

He hated her logic. Hated it that her words dredged up all the thoughts that plagued him every day. He shrugged off her touch, needing distance. ‘I’m actively searching for my birth mother. Just because I don’t love you doesn’t mean my life is on hold.’

She recoiled for a moment as his words had struck her like bullets. ‘I think you’re using this search for your mother as an excuse to hold people at bay. I think you’re scared.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He snapped the plastic clasps on his backpack with more force than necessary. ‘What on earth would I have to be scared about?’

Her look of pitying understanding made his stomach lurch.

She hauled in a breath. ‘I think you’re scared that Vietnam hasn’t given you the sense of completeness that you believed it would, and you feel guilty for missing Australia.’ She laced her fingers together. ‘You’ve told yourself for so long that you can’t fall in love until you find your birth mother and find the answers to all your questions about yourself. If you admit that you love me then you’ve just admitted that your search for your mother is over. And that scares the hell out of you.’

His heart pounded, threatening to expose his worst fears and strip him bare. He had to stop this conversation. He had to put an impenetrable distance between them. Had to stop her from ever thinking they could be together.

‘Bec, I never promised you love. I only ever offered you friendship. We don’t have a future together. I’m sorry you read more into it than I can give.’

A stillness settled over her. Only her eyelashes moved against her cheeks as she blinked furiously. ‘I’m a very perceptive reader, Tom.’

The words hung between them.

He blocked them out.

Suddenly she squared her shoulders as the muscles in her throat contracted hard and fast. ‘You taught me to trust again and to love. Now you need to take your own lesson and allow yourself to love. But it’s your choice and only you can make that decision. I refuse to plead for your love.’

She walked unsteadily to the door. ‘I promised Jason I would be part of the X-ray ceremony. The moment that’s over I’ll leave you to your life.’ She stepped out into the corridor, the door closing behind her.

Silence.

His breath shuddered out of his lungs and he sat down hard on the bed. His words had worked. She’d gone. He’d got exactly what he’d wanted. What he’d needed.

He closed his eyes against the image of her face.

The familiar empty space inside him, the space that had been a part of him since he’d been fifteen, abruptly expanded.

* * *

Bec stared out the window of the meeting room at the Hon Gin hospital and shuddered. Violent winds bent the coconut trees sideways and blinding rain lashed the buildings. Brown water covered the grounds of the hospital, flooding the gardens. She’d never seen rain or wind like it.

Hin joined her. ‘It’s the edge of a typhoon.’

His matter-of-fact voice surprised her. ‘A typhoon? Shouldn’t we have the windows boarded up?’

He smiled at her. ‘No, this is not bad. It is not predicted to come this way. The wind should not get any stronger.’

Bec wrapped her arms around herself as a small tree became uprooted. ‘Well, that’s reassuring.’

Hin smiled, completely missing the irony in her voice.

The rain had only increased the humidity and she dripped in her dress. Due to the importance of the occasion she couldn’t wear her Vietnamese farming clothes so she was back in Western clothing. It felt odd to have her legs and arms exposed.

‘We’re required on the podium now,’ Tom’s stern voice commanded her from behind.

All traces of affection had faded from his voice. He’d retreated behind the persona of the serious doctor. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply before she turned to face him. To face the man she loved.

The man who couldn’t love her back.

Unbearably, her heart tore a little more.

She just had to get through the next six hours. In six hours she would be back in Hanoi. Alone. Only then could she collapse in a flood of tears and give in to her raw and bleeding grief. But right now she was on show and dignity was her only defence.

She walked to the podium flanked by Hin and Tom and took her seat. Hin placed himself between her and Tom. She looked out onto a sea of colour, of flowing fabrics and complex embroidery. Most women wore the ao dai, the graceful and flowing national dress of Vietnam, marking the importance of the occasion. The men wore utilitarian black trousers and white shirts.

Everyone rose to their feet. The Australian flag was hoisted with appropriate pomp and ceremony, taking its place next to the vivid red Vietnamese flag with its central golden star.

The speeches started and Hin translated in a low voice. She took a quick glance sideways at Tom, knowing he had planned to make a short speech in Vietnamese, knowing he’d worried about getting it right. He stared straight ahead through eyes surrounded by deep lines. His shoulders were straight, rigid with tension, while his hands balled into fists and rested on his thighs.

Hands that had caressed her with such tenderness just yesterday.

A lifetime ago.

She sighed. This was all too hard. She would have given anything to hire a driver and go straight to Hanoi. Bypass this excruciatingly public event where they had to be seen together.

But no matter what had happened between them her plans for financing a programme with Health For Life hadn’t changed. Part of her belonged in Vietnam. Children like little Minh needed her.

Falling in love with Tom had forced her to acknowledge her desire for a child. Surely one good thing could come out of this mess. She’d go to Danang tomorrow and make enquiries about adopting Minh.

Tom’s chair scraped against the wooden floor as he rose to give his speech. People in the audience nodded their approval as his deep voice rang out clear and loud, the Vietnamese words flowing from his mouth without a moment’s hesitation.

For a few moments applause drowned out the sound of the rain.

A lump formed in Bec’s throat and she blinked. Nothing in her life had been as hard as right now, watching Tom from a distance and not being able to share this moment of accolade with him.

A children’s choir sang, their voices sweet and high, their red neck scarfs bright against their white school shirts.

Hin leaned over. ‘Now they want us to go and see the first X-ray being taken.’

She nodded numbly and followed the dignitaries off the podium, Tom ahead of her in deep discussion with the chief official and one of the local doctors.

Tom suddenly changed direction and walked hurriedly away with the doctor, disappearing through a side door, just as Hin guided her through another door and out into a long corridor.

Before she had time to wonder what was going on, the chief official was next to her and handing her some scissors.

‘He wants you to cut the ribbon on the machine,’ Hin translated as another door was opened.

Bec walked into the X-ray room and stood before the much-coveted, shiny new machine.

The staff looked eagerly at her. A nervous patient sat waiting for his chest X-ray.

She smiled, nodding at Hin to translate. ‘It is my pleasure to observe the first X-ray being taken.’ She snipped the ribbon.

Everyone clapped and she was ushered into the anteroom.

With much fanfare the X-ray was taken.

And another.

An hour later Bec had observed twelve X-rays being taken and talked to each of the patients. She had a sudden flash of insight into the duties of dignitaries. Her face ached from smiling, her dress stuck to her and she had blisters on her feet.

‘What happens next?’

Hin smiled. ‘They show you the X-rays and then we have tea.’

‘But shouldn’t Tom be reading the X-rays?’ She hadn’t seen him since he’d walked through a different door.

‘He isn’t here. There’s been a motorbike accident.’

The windows rattled as the wind whipped the building. ‘Has he gone to the emergency department? Do they need my help?’

Hin shrugged. ‘He went in the ambulance.’

‘In this weather?’ A slither of fear raced through her. She pushed it down.

‘You just have to look interested at the X-ray picture,’ Hin instructed her mildly, ignoring her question.

Resigned, she turned to face the light box as three chest films were clipped into place and proudly displayed. All films showed evidence of the damage coal dust could do to lungs, fibrous lung tissue making gas exchange difficult and breathing increasingly hard.

The light box suddenly buzzed and went black.

An almighty crack boomed around the room as Bec realized that lightning must have struck the building. The room went black. An ear-splitting crash followed. Rain poured through the roof as the ceiling curled back, ripped open like a sardine can. The wind swirled in, sucking up everything in its path, the noise deafening.

She instinctively reached out, trying to find Hin. Trying to remember the layout of the room. ‘I don’t think this is the edge of a typhoon,’ she yelled over the roar of the wind as fear clawed at her.

Tom was out in this storm.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

TOM CROUCHED UNDER a plastic sheet held up by two men to protect him and his patient from the blinding rain. It wasn’t really working. He was as wet as if he’d just got out of a pool. Water dripped off his hair as he shone his torch into the eyes of a young man who had lost control of his motorbike.

The road, if it could be called that, was now almost mud. The bike had gone into a wild skid, and both rider and bike had crashed into a ditch. He’d been pulled out of the water-filled trough by passers-by and now lay by the side of the road.

Tom prayed he had no spinal damage that had been made worse by the rescue attempts of his friends. Squinting in the rain, he watched for pupil contractions in response to the light. Sluggish.

Not good. The law in Vietnam was that riders on country roads had to wear helmets. Unfortunately, this young man had been on a back road up by the mine and hadn’t worn his.

Tom had come ahead in the four-wheel-drive as the ambulance hadn’t been able to negotiate the back road. Even the truck had struggled. He’d arranged to meet the ambulance at the village further down the mountain.

He needed to combine thoroughness with speed.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked the patient, as part of checking his mental status.

‘Loc.’ The man grimaced as he tried to move.

‘Where does it hurt, Loc?’ Tom sat back on his haunches.

The young man closed his eyes. ‘Head.’

Tom put his hand on Loc’s shoulder. ‘Try and stay awake, Loc. Where else does it hurt?’

‘Everywhere.’

Tom sighed and started a comprehensive examination as water from the tarpaulin cascaded down his back. He needed to get Loc into the vehicle but couldn’t move him until he’d examined him fully.

Thunder echoed around him as the wind increased in velocity, blowing the rain nearly horizontally. He glanced up at the bare hills. At least there were no trees for the wind to bring down on them. If this storm was the edge of a typhoon, he’d hate to be any closer.

Loc held his left arm close to his body, almost cradling it with his other hand.

Tom’s fingers expertly palpated Loc’s clavicle, finding the telltale lump of a fracture. He continued down the arm, checking for a fractured humerus, radius and ulnar. Those three bones were intact.

‘You’ve broken your bone here.’ Tom gently placed his fingers on Loc’s collarbone. He slipped a triangular sling into place, pulling it up high so the weight of Loc’s arm would pull the fractured bone into alignment.

‘Can you feel this?’ He put his hands on Loc’s feet.

Loc nodded.

‘Good. Wiggle your toes.’

The young man tried and yelped in pain.

Tom picked up the shears from his emergency kit and cut Loc’s jeans straight up on both sides, and started examining his legs. His right leg was at a distorted angle.

My father pushed me down a flight of stairs fracturing every bone in my leg.