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

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 (#ulink_a3dd6ff5-0cb7-5aef-b4f0-b4087555aac5)

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.