Resisting Her Rebel Doc

How was it going to be, having Brodie living nearby? Part of her was apprehensive, worried about how things might turn out. After all, it was one thing to contemplate working with him, but having him as a neighbour could end up being much more than she’d bargained for.

She couldn’t quite get a handle on what it was that bothered her about the situation, exactly. Over the last few weeks her world had been shaken to its foundations by the way Matt had behaved. She was unsettled, off-balance, totally out of sync. In her experience having Brodie close by could only add to her feelings of uncertainty. He was a spanner in the works, an unknown quantity.

She frowned. Perhaps the neighbour dilemma would only last for a short time, while her mother recovered from surgery. After that she could find a place of her own, away from Brodie, but near enough so that she could keep an eye on her mother and at the same time maintain her independence.

The nurse in charge of the recovery ward showed her to her mother’s bedside. ‘She’s very drowsy, and unfortunately she’s feeling nauseous, so it might be best for you to keep the visit short. She’ll probably be more up to talking to you in the morning.’

Caitlin nodded. ‘Okay.’ She asked cautiously, ‘Did the operation go well?’

‘It did. The surgeon placed screws across the site of the fracture to hold everything in place and that all went quite satisfactorily. Your mother will need to stay in hospital for a few days, as you probably know, but we’ll try to get her walking a few steps tomorrow. It seems very soon to get her on her feet, I know, but it’s the best thing to do to get her on the mend.’

‘All right. Thanks.’ It was a relief to know that the major hurdle was over. Now the hard work of rehabilitation would begin.

Caitlin went to sit by her mother’s bedside for a while but, as the nurse had said, she was very sleepy, feeling sick and wasn’t up to saying very much. ‘I’ll leave you to get some rest, Mum,’ Caitlin said after a while. ‘I’ll come back to see you tomorrow.’

She took a deep breath and left the hospital. At least her mother had come through the operation all right. That was a huge relief. She could relax a little, now, knowing that she was being well looked after.

On the way home she called in at the vet’s surgery to pick up the lotion that her mother had mentioned earlier.

‘It’s a mite infection,’ the veterinary nurse told her after looking at the notes on the computer. ‘You can’t see the mites on the rabbit’s skin, they’re so tiny, but you might see dander being moved about.’ She made a wry face. ‘That’s why the condition’s sometimes known as “walking dandruff”.’

Caitlin pulled a comical face at that, accepting the box containing the lotion that the nurse gave her.

‘The vet gave Ruffles an injection,’ the nurse said. ‘But you need to put a few drops of the lotion on the back of his neck to get rid of any mites that are left. I think Mrs Braemar forgot to take it with her when she came here yesterday. He’ll need another injection in eight days’ time. Meanwhile, you could comb him to get rid of any loose fur and dander.’

‘I’ll do that. Thanks.’

Caitlin drove home through lanes lined with hedgerows, eventually passing over the bridge across the lock where brightly painted narrowboats were moored by the water’s edge. Soon after that she came to a sleepy, picturesque village, a cluster of white-painted cottages with russet tiled roofs and adorned with vibrant hanging baskets spilling over with masses of flowers.

Her former family home was about half a mile further on, a rambling old house set back from the road, protected by an ancient low brick wall. There was one neighbouring property—Brodie’s—but otherwise the two houses were surrounded by open countryside, giving them a magnificent view of the rolling hills of the beautiful Chilterns.

Trees and flowering shrubs surrounded the front and sides of her mother’s house, adding glorious touches of colour around a lush, green lawn. Caitlin gave a gentle sigh of satisfaction. She always felt good when she returned home. Here was one place where she felt safe, sheltered.

Her old bedroom was just as she’d left it the last time she’d been here, about three weeks ago, except that her mother had laid a couple of books on her bedside table in readiness for her homecoming. Caitlin’s mouth flattened a little. That had been unexpectedly brought forward by her mother’s fall. She’d talked to her boss about it and he’d said she could take compassionate leave instead of working out her notice. It was a relief to know she had no worries there, at least.

She went into the farmhouse kitchen and made herself a snack of homemade soup from a tureen she found in the fridge, eating it with buttered bread rolls. The soup was made from fresh vegetables that her mother grew in the large kitchen garden out the back, and as she ate it Caitlin was filled with nostalgia. She had loved growing up here, having her friends to stay and her cousins to visit.

It was sad, then, that her cousin Jenny should be the one to steal the man she loved. Her fingers clenched on the handle of her spoon. How could things have turned out this way, leaving all her hopes and dreams cruelly shattered?

She pushed away her soup bowl and started to clear the table. Keeping busy was probably the best thing she could do right now. She made a start on various chores around the house, seeing to the laundry and collecting a few clothes and necessities to take into hospital for her mother. When she had done all she could in the house, she went outside to water the crops, and after that she made a start on the animal feeds.

True to form, as with everything that had happened so far today, she discovered from the outset things weren’t going quite to plan. As she approached the hen house there was a sudden honking sound, an awful shrieking that made her cover her ears and look around to see what on earth was going on.

A trio of buff-coloured geese came rushing towards her, flapping their wings and cackling loudly. The male bird—she assumed he was male, from his aggressive manner—hissed at her and made angry, threatening gestures with his beak, while the other two kept up a noisy squawking.

‘Go away! Shoo!’ Her counter-attack made them stop for a second or two, but then the threats started all over again and she looked around in vain for a stick of some sort that she could wave at them. The way things were going, they weren’t going to let her anywhere near the hen house.

‘Get back! Shoo!’ She tried again, frantically trying to keep them at bay for the next few minutes.

‘Are you having trouble?’ To her relief, she saw Brodie striding rapidly down the path towards her. Perhaps he would know how to stop the birds from attacking. ‘I heard the racket they were making, so I came to see what’s happening.’

‘I don’t think they want me around,’ she said, concentrating her efforts on warding off the gander. ‘In fact, I know they don’t.’

‘They’re protecting their territory. Flap your arms at them and hiss back … You need to show them who’s boss.’

She did as he suggested, waving her arms about and making a lot of noise. Brodie joined in, and to her amazement the geese began to back off. The gander—the male bird—was the last to give way, but eventually he too, saw that she meant business.

‘Well done!’ Brodie said approvingly when the birds had retreated. ‘They’re not usually an aggressive breed, but the males can be bullies sometimes, and you have to show them you’re bigger and more fierce than they are. I’d say you’ve won that one!’

‘Well, let’s hope I don’t have to go through that palaver every time I want to feed the hens. At least I’ll be prepared next time.’ She was breathing fast after her exertions and she was sure her cheeks must have a pink glow to them. ‘I’d no idea Mum had bought some new birds.’

‘She liked the idea of having goose eggs and thought the geese might sound a warning if any foxes came sniffing around.’

‘Ah. I guess they’re doing what she wanted, then. They’re guarding the place.’

Perhaps he saw that she’d had enough of trouble for one day because he came up close to her and gently laid an arm around her shoulders. ‘It hasn’t been the best homecoming for you, has it? How about you finish up here and then come over to my place for a cold drink?’

‘I … I don’t know …’ She was suddenly flustered, very conscious of his long body next to hers, yet at the same time strangely grateful for the warm comfort of his embrace.

He’d changed into casual chinos and a short-sleeved cotton shirt that revealed his strong biceps. The shirt was undone at the neck, giving a glimpse of his tanned throat.

‘I … um … there’s a lot to do; I still have to find the quail and clip his claws.’ She pushed back the curls that clung damply to her forehead and cheek. ‘I’ve never done it before, so it could take me a while to sort things out—once I manage to catch him, that is.’

‘I can do that for you. He’s in with the hens; your mother pointed him out to me a few days ago. She said wherever he came from, he hadn’t been able to run around and scratch to keep his claws down, so that’s why they need doing. It’s not a problem. I know where she keeps the clippers.’

‘Oh.’ That would be a terrific help, one less problem for her to manage. ‘Okay, then, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’ Her excuses obviously weren’t going to pass muster with him. Anyway, a cold drink was really, really tempting right now when she was all hot and bothered. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand.

‘Good, that’s settled, then. I do a great watermelon and apple blend. I remember you used to like that.’ He released her, but her skin flushed with heat all over again at the memory of hot summer days spent with her friends in flower-filled meadows.

Brodie and his brother had often come with them as they’d wandered aimlessly through the fields and by the river. They would stop to share sandwiches and drink juice or pop they’d brought with them. They had been fun days, days of laughter and innocent, stolen kisses in the time before Brodie had unexpectedly, disastrously, gone off the rails.

Together, they finished off the feeding then she watched as Brodie deftly caught the quail and carefully set about trimming the tip of each claw. ‘These little birds get stressed easily,’ he said, ‘So it’s best to get them used to being handled.’ He placed him back down in the pen and the bird scampered off as fast as he could. ‘He’ll be all right now. I doubt he’ll need clipping again now that he has a solid floor to run on and plenty of scratching litter.’

‘Thanks for that.’ Finished with all the chores for now, Caitlin locked up the pen and together they walked over to his house. It was a lovely big old property with a large, white-painted Georgian extension built on to an original Tudor dwelling. The walls were covered with rambling roses and at the side of the house there was an overgrown tree badly in need of pruning. The front lawn was dotted about with daisies and unkempt shrubs sprawled over the borders.

‘I need to get the garden in order,’ Brodie said ruefully, ‘But I’ve had other priorities up to now, at work and back here.’ He led the way along the path to the back of the house. ‘In estate agent jargon, “in need of some renovation”; that can be interpreted in lots of ways,’ he said with a wry smile.

She nodded, sharing the joke. ‘I’ve always loved this house,’ she said, glancing around. ‘I expect it will need a lot of care and attention to restore it to its former glory, but it’ll be worth it in the end.’

He nodded. ‘I think so too. That’s why I was so pleased when it came on to the market. I took to this house from a very early age. When I was about ten my friends and I used to climb over the wall and steal the apples from the orchard, until one day old Mr Martin caught us. We thought we were in big trouble, but he surprised us. He invited us into the house, gave us cookies and milk, then sent us on our way with a basket full of fruit.’

‘He was a kind old man.’

‘Yes, he was.’ He showed her into the kitchen and she looked around in wonder.

‘You’ve obviously been busy in here,’ she said admiringly. ‘This is all new, isn’t it?’

‘It is. It’s the first room I worked on. I looked into different types of kitchen design and decided I wanted one where there was room for a table and chairs along with an island bar. This way, I can sit down for a meal and look out of the window at the garden; or if I’m feeling in a more casual mood, I can sit at the bar over there and have a cold drink or a coffee or whatever.’

She smiled. ‘I like it, especially the cream colour scheme. You have really good taste.’ She studied him afresh, surprised by the understated elegance of the room.

‘Good taste for a rebel whose idea of fun was to spray graffiti on any accessible wall?’ He laughed. ‘I’ll never forget that day you let rip at me for painting fire-breathing dragons on your mother’s old barn. You handed me a brush and a pot of fence paint and told me to clean it up.’

‘And you told me to forget it because the barn was old and rotting and ready to fall down—but later that night you came back and painted the lot.’

His brow lifted in mock incredulity. ‘You mean, you’ve known all along who did it?’

She laughed. ‘I never thought you were as bad as people said. I knew there was a good person struggling to get out from under all that bravado.’ She’d understood him, up to a point, knowing how much it hurt to lose a parent. She’d turned her feelings inwards but back then Brodie had become more confrontational and forcefully masculine.

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