The Doctor’s Rescue Mission

CHAPTER NINE

THERE was a moment’s deathly silence.

‘Why?’ Morag called sharply and urgently, as if William might jump at any minute. Which he might well do, Grady thought grimly. The pressure of onlookers could form an impetus to push a man hesitating on a death urge straight over the edge. ‘William, tell us why.’

There was a moment’s loaded silence. Dreadful silence.

‘Us? Who’s with you?’

Grady let his breath out. Contact established. The first hurdle crossed. He’d been involved in rescue efforts for intending suicides often in his career-taking people from ledges, rescuing them after they changed their minds, bringing them medical attention when a serious attempt didn’t work-and he knew this first contact was vital.

Hauling people back from the abyss.

Often it didn’t work. Too damned often. The hardest part of medicine was the life you couldn’t save.

Morag had done the same training as he had, he thought grimly. She knew how important it was to establish empathy.

‘Dr Reece is with me,’ she called. ‘Grady Reece. He’s part of the rescue team.’

‘William, I’m here to check out the lighthouse,’ Grady said, interjecting just as strongly as Morag had. They needed to establish his presence was non-threatening. No one was going to burst in and haul him away from the edge. ‘There’s only the two of us. I persuaded Morag to bring me up to show me the light.’

‘Grady, this is William Cray,’ Morag told him loudly, as if she was performing an introduction. The last thing they wanted was for William to think they were whispering behind his back. ‘The William Cray. William is the island literary celebrity. He wrote Bleak Cradle and…and…’

‘And Dog’s Night and Evil Incarnate.’ Grady’s mind was working fast as he made his voice sound excited. ‘I know who William Cray is. Hey, I loved those books.’

‘No one here reads them,’ William said, softly now so they were struggling to hear.

‘I read Bleak Cradle,’ Morag told him.

‘Did you like it?’ William demanded, and Grady held his breath again.

‘No,’ Morag said honestly. ‘You killed the heroine.’

Good answer. Honest answer. It was the sort of reply that engendered trust even further. William would know Morag wouldn’t soft-soap him down.

But they could take this further.

‘Hey, I liked it,’ Grady told them, slightly indignant. ‘I thought the heroine asked for what she got. What a dimwit. But the hero-what was his name? Demszel. Boy, you put him through some hoops.’

‘You have read it.’ William sounded disbelieving and Grady thought maybe he could play the affronted card.

‘Hell, yes. Of course I have. Why would anyone not have? I’ve read everything you’ve written.’

‘No one reads every one of mine.’

‘I have.’

There was a moment’s stunned disbelief. ‘Tell me why Lucinda died.’ A test.

He racked his brains. In truth, William’s books were hardly his books of choice, but there were long, boring waits between rescues and a man couldn’t play chess all the time.

‘She made it with her sister’s husband, and her kid was also her brother-in-law’s kid, and the kid found out and…heck, it was really convoluted.’

Silence.

‘Yeah, well, you’ll be the only one who’s read them.’

‘Is that why you’re planning on jumping?’ Morag asked softly. ‘Because you’re depressed about your writing?’

‘I’m not depressed about my writing.’

‘Then what?’

‘I’m not depressed.’

‘You’re not happy,’ Morag said softly. ‘Happy people don’t think about suicide. Even in times like these. Can you tell us? William, will you explain?’

Keep him talking, Grady thought. Great going, Morag. If they could get him engaged…keep his mind off the jump…

‘I’m just… Hell, it’s all such an effort,’ William was muttering. ‘I’ve been fighting this for months now. Over and over. I can’t think. I can’t make myself do anything any more. Everything’s just a huge effort. You know, just figuring out the commitment to ring my agent takes me days, and often I just can’t do it. It’s just…like living in black sludge. I can’t move. And now my dog is dead.’

‘You don’t know your dog is dead,’ Morag said sharply. ‘They’re still searching.’

‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a jeer. ‘One dog. Twenty-four hours in the sea. You know, I would have killed myself months ago but for Mutt. He… Hell, he keeps me sane.’

‘So if you jump now and Mutt’s found, what are we going to do with him?’ Morag asked.

‘Get your nephew to keep him. And his friend. Hamish and Robbie, they’re always pestering me to take him for walks.’

‘You really think your Mutt would want to live with a nine-year-old rather than live with you?’ Morag asked incredulously, and there was a moment’s pause.

But then there was the sound of dragging-a door being opened above them-and Grady saw Morag wince. He guessed that William was opening the door to the ledge outside.

‘William, you know we’re both doctors,’ he called, and there was another moment’s silence, as though William was considering whether to answer them or not.

But finally he did.

‘I know that. So you can help Morag with…with the mess. I need to-’

‘You know you’re suffering from depression.’

‘I’m not suffering-’

‘You are, mate,’ Grady called urgently, knowing that time here was horribly limited. ‘What you’re describing sounds like real, dark and appalling depression. If I’m right, what you have is not just a bit of temporary sadness but a medically treatable, chemical imbalance. It’s not just a bleak mood. It’s depression as in a major clinical illness. Depression with a capital D-as in an illness that can be cured.’

‘Cured…’ There was a harsh laugh. ‘Don’t be funny. Cured. What a joke. It’s been months. The times I’ve told myself to snap out of it…’

‘It doesn’t work, does it?’

‘Of course it doesn’t.’

‘Treating yourself for this sort of depression is impossible,’ Grady called. ‘You can’t do it. The more you try to tell yourself to snap out of it, the more you can’t and the worse it gets. You feel a failure because you can’t make yourself operate. You can’t make the most minor decisions. You can’t think forward with any glimmer of hope at all.’

‘Yeah.’ The door dragged again.

‘But we can help,’ Grady called strongly and urgently. ‘It’s not something you can cope with alone, but you can move forward. There’s new antidepressants…’

‘Yeah.’ William’s voice was a mocking cry. ‘I’ve read about ’em. They knock you right out. You smile and wave but there’s no one at home.’

‘The old ones were like that,’ Grady told him. ‘Not any more. I swear. There’s all sorts of people operating normal, optimistic lives while they’re on antidepressants. While they’re being cured. People you can’t believe would ever need them. Depression’s insidious and everywhere. They call it the black dog. William, believe me, it’s treatable, and we can help you.’

Silence.

‘It’d be an awful shame,’ Morag said softly into the stillness, ‘if we found Mutt tonight and you weren’t here to welcome him home.’

Another silence. And then a rasping sob, choked back.

‘If I go away,’ Grady said, casting an urgent look at Morag. ‘William, if I go downstairs, will you open the hatch to Morag?’ He hesitated. ‘It’s over to you, mate. We’re here to help. I swear we can help.’

‘You can’t.’

‘Will you give us the chance? For Mutt’s sake at least?’

‘I…’

‘Look, I’m going down,’ Grady called, with a silent, urgent message to Morag. They had to act fast while William was hovering in indecision. Endless talk wouldn’t help-not when there was no eye contact. The longer he stayed up there…Well, it was over to Morag. ‘I’ll stay down below,’ he called. ‘Either to scrape what’s left of you off the rocks or to welcome you down when you come down with Morag. Your call. Over to you, Morag. See you below, mate.’

He turned and deliberately started the long climb down the stairs, allowing his boots to scrap on the worn steps so William could hear him going.

Please…

And before he’d gone twenty steps he heard the trapdoor being dragged back.

Morag was being allowed to enter.

He was brilliant.

With Grady present, William might have maintained a front. He might have played the man. But with Grady gone, all pretence disappeared and as Morag climbed the last few steps into the lightwell, he crumpled against her.

William had been one of the two men Morag had dated in the years she’d been back on the island. For a while things had looked possible, but in the end… He was trying really hard not to be gay, William had told her, and she’d decided pretty fast that this wasn’t a strong basis for a relationship.

Plus, there was the fact that he hadn’t made her heart flip as Grady had.

No one had. Ever.

But now… Morag knew William enough to hug him and to smooth his hair and hold him close until the ragged sobs subsided. This had been a serious attempt at suicide. She was under no illusion that if she and Grady had arrived ten minutes later they would have found a body at the base of the lighthouse.

But now…thanks to Grady…

She couldn’t think about Grady. She needed to focus on William.

How much of his isolation had been caused by undiagnosed depression? she wondered. He held himself aloof and most of the islanders thought he was an intellectual snob. Once she had him started on antidepressants, would it be possible to pull him more into island life? Have him help in the planning for the rebuilding? Run a course for islanders interested in creative writing? Maybe…

Maybe nothing. There wasn’t going to be an island, she told herself.

It was finished.

But now wasn’t the time to say that. She held him for as long as he needed her. Finally William hauled back and looked at her with a smile that was half-ashamed. ‘I’ve been a fool.’

‘You’ve been ill,’ she told him. ‘You are ill. I should have seen it. I should-’

‘You’d blame yourself?’

‘Heck, William…’

‘I’m a grown man. It’s up to me to ask for help.’

‘Are you asking for help now?’ she asked, and there was a long silence. She met his look square on and waited-for however long it took.

And finally it came.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, I am.’

Marcus was waiting with Grady when they emerged from the lighthouse. They walked out the door and William put up a hand as if to shield his eyes from daylight. He’d walked up these stairs expecting never to climb down, Morag thought, and it must be quite a challenge to start again.

And here were Grady and Marcus. Marcus had been a tower of strength over the last twenty-four hours. The big fisherman seemed to be everywhere, organising, helping, planning. As Morag led William out the door, the two men she’d leaned on most were sitting on the stone coping, soaking the last rays of the day’s sun.

What had Grady told Marcus about William? she wondered. Whatever it was, there was no judgement on Marcus’s face. He peeled his long body off the stones and gave William a smile.

‘I’ve been looking for you.’

‘Is it Mutt?’ William asked hoarsely, and Marcus’s smile faded. There were islanders frantic about their loved ones, but for many, especially those who lived alone, the fate of their pets was just as important.

‘No, mate,’ he said gently. ‘We haven’t found your dog. But we’re still looking. The reason I’ve been searching for you is that we’re trying to sort out a bit of privacy for those who are in urgent need of it. Your cottage is one of the few that are undamaged. You have a water tank, a septic tank for sewerage and you have two bedrooms. We’re wondering if you could take in old Hazel Cartwright. You know Elias was killed and her home is shattered. She’s in the dormitory tent, just…just sitting. Your place is just up the hill from hers and she could still see the harbour. She can go to her daughter in Sydney if you refuse, but she’s desperate to stay for as long as she can.’

Had Grady done this? Morag flashed him an uncertain look. One look at his impassive face made her sure that he had. Of all the… This was perfect. To give William a need…

For the next few days, until antidepressants could take effect, William needed constant supervision. In a city, Morag would recommend that he become a voluntary patient in a clinic specifically designed for those at risk of self-harm. Here there could be no such supervision.

But caring for Hazel… It might work. She could even talk to Hazel about William’s needs, and they could care for each other.

Would he do it?

He was having trouble taking it in, she thought. She let her hand lie in his, aware that he was in need of support himself. To ask him to support another…

Would his black depression make him too self-absorbed?

‘Hazel plays the piano,’ William said softly. ‘I’ve heard her. Mutt and I walk past her place on the way to the beach, and there’s always music.’

‘They said she could have been a concert pianist if she’d stayed in the city,’ Morag told him. ‘But she chose a life with Elias, a life on the island.’

‘I have a piano,’ William said, and Morag cast a fleeting glance at Marcus and guessed he’d already thought this out.

‘Would you do it, mate?’ Marcus said, ignoring the fact that Morag was still holding William’s hand.

William stared at Marcus. Then he turned and stared up at the lighthouse. Finally he released Morag’s hand and gave himself a shake, as if he was shaking off a cloak. A cloak of fog and darkness and despair…

‘Of course I will,’ he said. ‘I’ll come with you now, shall I, and ask her if she’ll be my guest.’

Grady promised to call at William’s in an hour with medication and for a talk. To check on Hazel, he said, but they both knew it was more than that. Marcus and William started back to the makeshift township, and Morag and Grady were free to talk.

But for a while there was silence. Morag stared after them as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. Finally she turned and asked the question that was slamming through her mind.

‘Was that you?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Was that chance-or did you play a hand?’

‘I might have,’ he acknowledged, with the hint of a rueful smile.

‘How?’

‘Marcus came here at a run,’ he told her. ‘Apparently William left a note saying what he wanted done with his possessions. It was pinned to his front door. The nextdoor neighbour was curious and took a look. She panicked and gave the note to Marcus.’

‘So Marcus knew William intended suicide. He never let on.’

‘Do you think he should have?’

‘No.’

‘We’re agreed the note blew off in the wind and no one ever saw it,’ Grady told her. ‘Marcus will square it with the neighbour.’

‘And Hazel?’

‘Once Marcus calmed down about William-there wasn’t much either of us could do with the pair of you locked in the tower-he sat down and talked to me about the worst of his concerns. Hazel was top of the list.’

Morag sighed. So many things…so many worries…‘Hazel’s a wonderful old lady,’ she told him. ‘She’s played the church organ for ever. Whenever anyone’s in trouble there’s always been Hazel. We all love her.’

‘Including William?’

‘He might. Our William might just learn to love. He might just figure out there’s different forms of loving and they don’t all have to do with sex. I’ll start him on antidepressants tonight. I guessed a while back that he was depressed but until now he hasn’t let me close.’

Enough. She sat down beside Grady on the stones and turned her face to the setting sun. Her shoulders slumped. She’d been so afraid…

‘This island’s all about loving,’ Grady said softly, and she closed her eyes.

‘It is.’

‘I’ve been talking to May.’

‘She’s another wonderful lady.’

‘This island breeds their women wonderful,’ he murmured, and she grimaced. Then she opened her eyes again. She took a deep breath and faced what was coming.

‘Yeah, right.’ She stared down at her feet, as if her rough walking shoes could provide an answer. ‘What will happen to the islanders?’

‘I’m sure the spirit of the place will go on,’ he said uneasily.

‘What-in five hundred different locations, wherever we’re dispersed?’

‘The tentative plan is to relocate the bulk of the population to Port Shelba,’ he told her. ‘There’s a big migrant centre there that’s not being used. We can take that over as temporary accommodation until permanent housing’s organised. The harbour there is under-utilised. The government would be prepared to give land grants, building grants, fishing licences-basically anything it takes to get families resettled.’

‘You must really want this island evacuated.’

‘They,’ he said heavily. ‘Not me.’

‘You work for them.’

‘I’m just an emergency services doctor, Morag.’

‘You’re a spokesperson for the government.’

‘OK,’ he said, gazing out into the fading light at the greyness of the sea and not at her. ‘You tell me what’s wrong with the plan. It sounds good to me.’

‘It’s terrible.’

‘Why?’

‘We’re islanders,’ she told him. ‘We have our own heritage. Port Shelba’s big. We’d be integrated into the broader population and our sense of community would be lost.’

‘Is that important?’

‘You’ve seen the damage depression can do,’ she told him. ‘Look what just happened here. Depression… You know, I’ve been working on this island for four years now and William’s will be the first antidepressant I’ve prescribed. And that’s only because he’s a relative newcomer and he’s held himself so aloof.’

‘You’ve been lucky.’

He didn’t have a clue, she thought bleakly. Not a clue. ‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I haven’t been lucky. I’ve been part of a community, but you don’t know what that means, do you, Grady Reece? You can’t possibly see how important that is. Without the community Hubert would be dead by now. The community keeps him alive and interested and involved. And what about the Kooris? How is the government planning on resettling them?’

‘They’re not.’ This was the hard part and Grady stared out to sea some more. ‘The Kooris won’t move. We know that. But…maybe they don’t want what’s being offered even now in the way of health services. They’re fiercely independent.’

‘Oh, right.’ Her anger was building to the point where she felt like kicking someone. Kicking Grady? Maybe. ‘So because they’re independent, you’d abandon them completely.’

‘Of course not. We’d make provisions.’ He met her look, her anger meeting his calm, placid response. As if he was really making sense. ‘Morag, if you came to Sydney with me…’

Her breath stopped right there. ‘What?’

‘I love you, Morag,’ he told her, so softly that she had to strain to hear what he was saying. And then he said it again, louder. ‘I love you. I’ve fought against it all this time. Hell, if I knew how much it’d hurt four years back, I’d never have let you walk away.’

There was a deathly silence. ‘You didn’t have a choice,’ she whispered at last, her anger sucked right out of her. ‘You didn’t let me go. I came all by myself.’

‘But you didn’t want to come,’ he told her. ‘Not really. Oh, you had no choice, I accept that. You loved Beth and you love Robbie and you care for this damned community.’ He reached out and gripped her hands, urgently, as if he could somehow impart his message through touch.

‘But, Morag, it’s finished,’ he told her. ‘You’ve done a fine job. A wonderful job. These people…what you’ve built… I’m so proud of you.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

He wasn’t listening. ‘Morag, we could build a life back in Sydney. I know you want to keep up with your medicine. And I’d be blind not to see your commitment to the Koori people. So what I suggest is-’

‘What do you suggest?’

He caught her anger then, and frowned. ‘Don’t you want hear?’

‘Of course I want to hear.’

‘You’d bring Robbie with you,’ he told her. ‘That’s understood. He’s a great kid. He loves you and I’m sure…’ He hesitated a little, but only just. ‘I’m sure that I could be…more than a friend to him. I’m willing to try, Morag. For you.’

Her anger wasn’t dissipating a bit. ‘That’s big of you.’

‘Just listen. Morag… The Kooris…’ He was trying so hard to make her see. She was listening to him and hearing his urgency, knowing that he was trying to make a case but not recognising that her heart was closed. It had to be closed. ‘You could be the remote medical officer for them,’ he told her. ‘There’d be ample funding. With what the government saves in providing the infrastructure for this settlement, they’d be more than happy to spend in employing you. You could fly out here once every couple of weeks and do clinics at need. They’d still be in contact.’

‘Every two weeks?’

‘We think that’s workable.’

‘And if a woman goes into labour? You’d say she should wait two weeks for attention?’

‘She’d have to come to Sydney before she was due.’

‘She wouldn’t.’ She hauled her hands back and stared at him as if he was someone she’d never seen before. Someone she could never, ever understand.

Someone she could never love?

‘Then maybe…’ He hesitated. ‘Morag, the Kooris chose this lifestyle. Maybe the risks come with the territory.’

Love didn’t come into this, she thought bleakly. How could she think about loving this man when he was speaking such nonsense?

‘They didn’t choose this lifestyle,’ she snapped. ‘And now we’ve introduced them to a different one. We-my father and then Beth and now me-have taught them to trust. They bring the worst of their illnesses in their young to me now. The major traumas. And in childbirth, if there’s a need, they come to me now. You’d take that away?’

‘There’s no choice, Morag,’ he said flatly. ‘Do you think you could get political support to rebuild this place?’

‘Not without help.’ She knew that. But that was all she knew.

And what help? She didn’t even know who she needed.

The bleakness in her heart was growing by the minute.

‘You don’t have help,’ he told her. ‘Morag, you’re so alone. It’s crazy.’

‘I’m not alone. I have all these people. Marcus. May. Hazel. Five hundred people who are part of me.’

‘Those people are leaving.’

‘But not the Kooris.’

‘That’s their choice.’

‘And you think I have a choice?’ she whispered. ‘You want me to leave?’

‘Yes,’ he said, sure of his ground in this most important question. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s impossible here. And more…’ He was standing before her now, and he was suddenly closer, his body language urgent. She’d also risen, glaring at him against a backdrop of setting sun. He reached out to take her by the waist but she stepped back.

‘Morag, we’ve lost so much time,’ he said. ‘You’ve given this community four years and they can’t expect any more. It’s time to move on. Time to come back to me. Morag, I love you.’

It needed only this. Grady loved her? Still? And he was offering her a life.

So… She could walk away from her islanders, she thought dully. She could leave right now. She and Robbie could leave this island, go back to the life she thought she’d chosen all those years before.

How could she tell Robbie that they were leaving?

She might not have a choice. If the island truly was evacuated… If his best friend was dead…

But these were her people. If the island was evacuated, how damaged would they be? How much more would they need the doctor they’d leaned on for years? It wasn’t just her. She was part of a dynasty of trust. Her father and then Beth and now her.

Take away their homes? Take her away as well?

No. She couldn’t leave them.

‘Grady, this isn’t going to work,’ she said softly. ‘Not now.’ She glanced around at the mess the wave had made of the shoreline and she shuddered. ‘Look, we’re talking about the future here-and the present’s such a catastrophe that we can’t even think straight. Can we just get on with it?’

‘But you and I-’

‘There’s no you and me.’

‘There is.’

‘Grady…’

‘Morag, I was mad to ever let you go,’ he said strongly. ‘I can’t imagine why I did.’

‘I didn’t give you a choice.’

‘You’re saying you didn’t regret it?’

‘No. I…’

‘You’re saying you don’t love me?’

She stared at him. He was so…capable, she thought desperately. Strong, competent and a little bit…dangerous? Ruthless?

He had all the answers, she thought, anger surfacing as it had four years ago. He’d take over her life and he’d put it back on track. Organise. Order.

Her life would be great. Robbie’s life would be great. He’d care for them and make them laugh and make love to her and make her toes curl and the world would be a funny, happy, busy…

Her community would be without her. May. Hazel. Marcus and Judy and the kids. Angie Salmon, who’d hardly started to grieve.

‘No.’

‘Morag…’

‘Grady, please. Don’t ask.’

‘I must.’ His hands came out and caught hers. ‘Morag, what’s between us…it’s irreplaceable. Four years ago I thought it was…not all that important. I thought I’d meet someone else. But there’s only you. Morag, I can’t bear to let you go again. We’ll get the island evacuated-’

‘No!’ She was almost yelling at him now. Fear was surfacing behind the anger. Fear that she was losing control. She was losing her direction and it was desperately important that she find it again.

‘Why not?’ he said, his voice gentling.

‘I can’t. How can you not see?’

‘I see what’s between us.’

‘There’s nothing between us.’

‘Don’t be so…’

‘So what?’ She was close to tears. She was close to breaking and it must be obvious. Grady’s face changed and suddenly instead of urgency there was tenderness. Compassion.

Love.

‘Morag…’

There it was again. The way he said her name. It had the capacity to shift her off her bearings. It had the capacity to…

To weaken?

For suddenly she felt herself being drawn into him. Against her better judgement-against any sort of judgement-she was allowing those big, capable hands to pull her against him. Her breasts were pressing against the strength of him. His hand was cupping her chin and tilting her face.

And then…

He smiled down at her, a rueful, searching smile that asked more questions than it answered. And she couldn’t reply. How could she reply as his mouth lowered onto hers?

She could drown in this kiss.

Four long years…

She’d thought she was over it. No. No, she’d never thought she was over it, she thought desperately, but she’d pushed away the feel of him. The scent of him. The pure animal magnetism…

Her love for this man was so real. It was an aching need that had had her crying out in her sleep for the first twelve months of her stay on the island. Her dreams of her dead sister had been crazily mixed with her need for this man.

Loss. She’d lost so much. Her loss was real and dreadful, and the sudden lessening of it, the sudden glimmer of hope that her loss wasn’t irrevocable, had her responding now as if her body had known all along that this was her rightful place.

This was her home. This man was her man, and the only place in the world that she could ever be at peace was right here.

Within the arms of the man she truly loved.

So for one long moment she melted into his kiss. For one glorious moment she let herself surrender to the promise of his body. To the feel of his hands, pulling her into him. To the feeling that here in his arms anything was possible. With Grady beside her, she could take on the world. Save her island. Find Hamish safe and well. Care for the Kooris.

With Grady she could do anything. She could fly!

Above her head the light from the lighthouse shimmered on, automatically powered to light up with the gathering dusk. The flash of light across her face was hardly enough to haul her back from insanity-it didn’t-but it was enough to make her catch a trace of reason. To haul back. To gasp and push back with both hands. To stand and stare with eyes that were wild with want and hope and aching, tearing need.

And above all…despair?

‘Grady, don’t…’

‘You want-’ he started in a voice that was far from steady.

‘What I want doesn’t come into it,’ she whispered. ‘This is crazy. A tidal wave washes away the foundations of my community and you’re saying I should leave them? I can’t. Grady, don’t ask me.’

‘Morag-’

‘Leave it,’ she said, roughly and despairingly. ‘Go back from where you came, Grady. You’re needed in a crisis. Medical emergencies. But what I do… I don’t do emergencies, Grady. I do for ever.’

She stared at him for one long moment, as though taking in everything she could about him. One long, last look…

‘I need to go home,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry, Grady. I have to go back to Robbie.’

And before he could say another word she’d turned and fled, back to where the track started its winding way up toward Hubert’s cottage.

Back to the community where she belonged.