Dating the Millionaire Doctor

‘Just…just because I named her,’ she whispered, hugging the spade, while the little dog nosed her boots in worry. ‘I wanted her buried here. At least the edges of the bush here are still alive. I wanted her buried under living trees. Does that make sense?’

‘It does,’ he said, strongly and surely, and before she could protest again, he took the spade from her hands and started digging.

She was right. The ground was so hard it would be more sensible to cremate her. Only there was something about Tori that said this burial was deeply important on all sorts of levels. So he put all his weight behind the spade and it slid a couple of inches in. Slowly he got through the hardened crust to the root-filled clay below, while Tori watched on in silence.

After a couple of minutes she sank to her knees and gathered the little dog against her.

‘What’s his name?’ he asked, trying not to sound like the digging was as hard as it was.

‘Rusty.’

‘How did he lose his leg?’

‘Fire,’ she said harshly, and he glanced at the little dog in surprise. He’d lost his leg but he wasn’t otherwise scarred.

‘He was burned?’

‘Wasn’t everything around here?’ She hugged him closer and got another nose lick for her pains. ‘But Rusty was lucky—sort of. He was…I found him in the fireplace of…of where I lived. Over there.’ She motioned to the neighbouring property. ‘Part of the bricks had collapsed, trapping his leg, but otherwise he was okay. He was my dad’s Rusty. He’s just waiting ‘til he comes home.’

Her voice broke. No more questions were allowed, Jake thought, while she struggled for control, so he kept right on digging.

It took time. Ten minutes. Fifteen. He wasn’t in a hurry. This was giving Tori time to catch her breath, figure if she wanted to tell him more.

There were cockatoos screeching in the gums about his head. Apart from the birds and the sound of the spade against the earth, there was nothing but silence.

What had happened to this woman? He shouldn’t ask, but finally he had to.

‘So who did you lose?’ he asked into the silence, and for a while he thought she wouldn’t answer.

Then, ‘My father and my sister,’ she said flatly, dreadfully. ‘My sister was eight months pregnant.’

Dear God, he thought helplessly. Where to take this from here? ‘You all lived over there?’ he tried.

‘We did. Micki…Margaret…My sister’s relationship had fallen apart and she’d come home, so she could have her baby with us. Toby and I were going to look after her for the first few weeks after the birth.’ She took a deep breath. ‘But then they died. Dad and Micki and Benedict. Benedict was Micki’s baby. A little boy. She was going to call him Benedict. I found Rusty three days later when I finally got back up here, but there was nothing else left. Nothing.’

It took his breath away. He felt ill. But desperately he wanted to help, and somehow he knew that the only way to do that was to keep on going. Keep digging—and keep on talking.

‘So…Toby?’

‘Toby was my fiancé.’

‘But he wasn’t killed?’

‘What do you think?’ She laughed, mirthlessly, and buried her face in her dog’s soft fur. Her laugh sounded close to hysteria.

He let her be for a moment, pushing the spade deeper into the tree roots. The grave was deep enough, but he knew instinctively that if he stopped, then so would she. She’d get back to the business of living—but maybe talking about the dying would help?

He’d done a bit of psychology in medical school but he’d never practised it. Now, however, what to do seemed to be instinctive. A human skill rather than a professional one? Whatever, it seemed to be working.

‘Sorry,’ she said at last, sniffing and giving Rusty a bit of slack. ‘That…that sounds dumb. Of course you’d think he’d be killed. But Toby…well, Toby was a charmer, and he was also a survivor. He was a lovely, vibrant guy, a photographer who came up here last autumn and took pictures of the mountains, took pictures of my vet clinic—and finally stayed.’

She paused again but then went on, more in control now. ‘I need to tell you…Dad started the vet practice up here when Micki and I were kids. Mum died early but Dad looked after us really well. We had a great childhood. Micki married and moved interstate—I did veterinary science. Then Dad was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. The past couple of years have been hard. But then along came Toby and he made us both laugh. He brought the house to life, and when he asked me to marry him I don’t know who was happier, me or Dad. Toby didn’t have any money, but what could be more natural than he stay here? His photography would take off, I’d do the vet work I love and we’d live happily ever after.’

He let that sink in for a bit, and dug a few more spadefuls. This was getting to be a very deep hole and still he didn’t have the full story. ‘But…’ he prompted softly, and he thought she wouldn’t answer but finally she did.

‘So then Micki came home for Christmas because her relationship had ended. She was having a tough pregnancy but Toby charmed her as well. Maybe…maybe things between Toby and me weren’t as good as they could have been but Micki and Dad loved him.’

‘And then the fires hit.’

‘Then the heat hit,’ she said dully. ‘Micki was so pregnant she could hardly move. Dad was having one of his bad spells. He could hardly move. On the day…It was so hot. There was no sign of fires, but I was nervous. Everyone was nervous. Then the district nurse rang to say she didn’t want to come up the mountain because she was scared her car might boil. But Dad had run out of his medication. So I made a run down into the valley. I’d only be away for an hour or so. Toby was here with the other car. What could go wrong? And then the fires hit.’

‘There’s no need…’ he said, hearing the raw anguish in her voice and not wanting to make her say it. He’d stopped digging now. He moved towards her but she waved him back.

‘Let me finish,’ she whispered. ‘He heard on the radio that there were fires on the other side of the ridge—that’s where they started. So Toby took the van and went to see. He took magnificent photographs. You probably saw them—they were the ones beamed around the world the next day, after the wind changed and over a hundred people were killed, and Dad and Micki and Benedict and all the animals in our vet clinic were left without a vehicle to escape in. Dad put Rusty in the fireplace and protected him with his body. Our three big dogs—Mutsy and Pogo and Bandit, they died, too. One little dog was all they could save.’

Once more he made a move to go to her, but she flinched. She swiped her hand across her face again and she sniffed. Trying desperately to move on. ‘Enough,’ she said bleakly. ‘Toby made a fortune, and I lost everything. I promised Micki she’d be safe here, but it didn’t happen. I failed her as I failed…so many. Trusting Toby. Leaving the mountain. But it’s dopey to keep crying. We’ll bury Manya, and then Rusty and I will move on.

‘Where?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘This is where I belong but I don’t know any more. Look, it’s deep enough. I can do the rest.’

‘You’ll do nothing,’ he growled. ‘I’m the undertaker, today. Stay.’

He helped Tori gather sheaths of fresh eucalyptus leaves. He carried the little body from the house. They laid her on a bed of the leaves she’d loved, they covered her with more leaves and then he filled in the grave. They spread more leaves on the freshly dug earth, and then Jake stood back, silent, not knowing where to go next.

Not knowing how to help.

He wanted to hold her again, but Tori was standing apart, rigid, as if ashamed at her previous show of emotion.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you so much. I…When do you want your house back?’

‘Let’s look at it now,’ he said and held out his hand. She looked at it but she didn’t take it. Her reserve was back again. The woman who’d sobbed her heart out was well hidden.

‘Of course,’ she said, stiffly, and led the way back down to the house, with Rusty limping along behind them. She ushered him into one room after another, letting him see it all.

Apart from yesterday he’d never been in this house. When his father died it had already been let to tenants who’d wanted to keep renting. A realtor had acted as intermediary, and there’d been no opportunity or need for him to see it.

The grand old homestead was battered now, from years of renting, from six months of being used as an animal hospital and from the fires themselves. The building hadn’t burned but it was still smoke stained and grim. The only furniture was what they’d needed for the animal hospital.

The last room Tori showed him was what was obviously the master bedroom. He stood at the door and saw how she’d been living for the past six months, and he drew in his breath in dismay.

There was a camp stretcher in the corner. There were half a dozen cardboard cartons acting as storage and as a bedside table. A basket lay in the corner for Rusty.

Nothing else.

At speed dating he’d thought she’d looked dowdy. It was a miracle she’d managed to look presentable at all.

‘No mirror?’ he asked, trying to make it sound as though he was joking.