Dating The Millionaire Doctor(11)

There was a deathly silence round the table. Jake looked as if he'd gone  into shock, Tori thought. His face was a mixture of conflicting  emotions. Maybe she should reach out and touch him. Maybe she could  reassure him.

Maybe she should just keep out of what was clearly not her business.

'You said he met Hazel twenty years ago,' Jake said, tightly now, angry and disbelieving. 'Surely you meant thirty. Or more.'

'Oh, no, dear,' Glenda said. 'That was why they couldn't have children.  Hazel was in her early forties when they met. Of course they hoped, but  it didn't happen.'

'But my mother left because of my father's affair with this … Hazel.'

'No, dear, she left because of the American. His name was Chuck or  something appalling, and his automobile broke down here and he had to  stay until it was mended and then … well, off he went, with your mother.  And you. Your father couldn't believe it. He loved her so much. Oh, but  it was never going to work. Your mother hated the life as a wife of a  country doctor. She hated the calls, the feeling of everyone knowing  everyone, the community. She just hated … here.'

'Are you a doctor as well?' Finally Doreen spoke. Her eyes were alight with pleasure-and with something else.

'Yes.'

'Oh, my dear,' Doreen breathed. 'To think, Glenda, Doc's son coming  home, and a doctor as well.' And then she looked uncertainly at her  sister and then directly at Jake. 'If you really are his son, I don't  suppose …  You know, Glenda won't go and see a doctor. She broke her wrist  dragging me out of the fire. Since she left hospital she won't go back,  and I know it hurts her terribly. Do you think we could trouble you to  look at it. Just to tell us what you think?'         

     



 

'I'm not sure that I could help-and I don't have registration to practise in this country,' Jake said, sounding flummoxed.

'No, but you could give us advice.'

'I don't think I can.'

'If you're Old Doc's son you could try,' Doreen said, suddenly stern,  and Tori remembered she'd been a school-teacher. 'She's in such pain.  She hasn't slept for weeks. It hurts and hurts, and she doesn't tell me  but I know she lies awake night after night. She doesn't want to go to  bed because the pain takes over again. I'm so worried about her I don't  know what to do.' The sternness left her. She sniffed, and then she  sniffed again and finally she hiccupped on a sob, while Glenda stared at  her in horror, as if she'd been betrayed.

'Doreen, don't.'

'He's Old Doc's son. He'll help us. He even looks like his father.'

'I didn't know my father,' Jake said tightly. 'You should go back to see your own doctor.'

'They just give her sleeping pills,' Doreen retorted, gulping back more  tears. 'Sleeping pills and those other blue things that stop it hurting  for a little bit but then her stomach gets upset and she won't keep  taking them. And the sleeping pills don't work. She can't go on like  this. Neither of us can.' She touched her chest, a fleeting gesture that  spoke volumes. 'It hurts us both. Please help us.'

'We have no right to ask,' Glenda said, sounding angry and distressed.

Glenda was right, Tori thought. They had no right to ask for  professional help from this man. He wasn't even qualified to practise in  Australia.

But then, Tori thought of the way he'd worked with Manya, of the skills  he'd shown. And he was an anaesthetist, she thought. He'd know about  pain management.

Maybe he could help.

And despite her absolute certainty that she should stay out of this, Tori found herself inexorably caught up in Doreen's plea.

'Glenda, Jake's my friend,' she said softly, ignoring Jake for the  moment and concentrating on Glenda. 'He helped me try and save my koala.  Doreen's right. You knew Jake's dad so you know him. Will you let him  help? Jake, can you see if there's anything you can do?'

She caught the flare of shock on Jake's face-but she'd started now. There was no way she could back off.

'Jake's also an anaesthetist,' she told Glenda, firmly but softly. 'Pain relief is what he does. Isn't that right, Jake?'

'Yes.' He had no choice but to agree.

'We know you don't practise medicine in Australia,' she continued,  inexorably hooking him and keeping him hooked. 'But if all Glenda's been  offered is sleeping pills and little blue pills …  Morphine?'

'Yes,' Glenda said hopelessly. 'But my arm's better. They put a plate in it, and screws. It's as good as they can get it.'

And then …

'Can I see?' Jake said, and it was as if the whole world held its  breath. Can I see. Those three little words had the capacity to turn  this desperate little scene around.

Glenda stared at him, wide-eyed, and Jake gazed right back, not  speaking, giving her time to make up her mind. The room held its  collective breath.

And then, very slowly, Glenda held out her arm, and Tori wondered if Jake knew just how much trust went into that gesture.

Glenda had been postmistress in the valley forever, and her independence  was legendary. When her postboys called in sick Glenda had been known  to get on a bike and deliver herself, often two or three mail runs in  the one day. For her to accept help …

But it seemed she was. Jake was pulling his chair round the table so he  could sit facing her. Gently he took her hand in his, and while Glenda  submitted her arm for inspection, while Tori watched Glenda place her  trust in him, the warmth around Tori's heart grew and grew.

She should be concentrating on Glenda. She was-sort of. But when he'd  taken Glenda's hand in his, it was as if he'd taken her own.

I could be in huge trouble here, she told herself, feeling dazed. I need to leave, right now. If I stay longer …

But she couldn't leave now.

Jake was holding Glenda's hand lightly in his, watching Glenda's face  intently. The tension in the elderly woman's body was palpable. Was she  expecting Jake to hurt her?

'I'm not probing,' Jake said softly. 'I'm just touching.' He rested her  hand in his left hand, and touched her damaged wrist with his right,  running his forefinger gently up and down her arm, along her fingers,  not pressing, smooth as silk.         

     



 

'Stop me the minute I make you feel uncomfortable or I hurt you,' he told her. 'Stop me the moment I make anything worse.'

She didn't stop him. He ran his fingers over the back of her palm, over  and over, and then cupped her hand and felt that, too. Around her Tori  felt the tension ease. Everyone, it seemed, had been holding their  breaths. Even Mrs. Matheson, who'd been clearing coffee cups, had  paused, riveted.

'Press my hand,' Jake was saying. 'Here. One finger at a time. Can you clench? No? Don't try, then. What does that feel like?'

'Like my hand doesn't belong to me,' Glenda whispered. 'Like it's not  there-only it is. I can feel it but not like I want to feel it.  Sometimes it hurts so much I just want to chop it off. It's not mine any  more. It's not real.'

'It is real.'

'I'm being stupid,' Glenda said, as finally Jake rested her hand in his again and let it lie.

'No.' It was such a flat response that Glenda stared. 'You're not being  stupid. How long have you been putting up with pain like this?'

'A while.'

'Months,' Doreen said dully. 'And it's getting worse.'

'But at the beginning it did seem to get better?'

'Yes,' Glenda whispered. 'That's why it's stupid. It got better and all  the scans are good and the doctors say I'm cured. Only then the pain  started … '

'I've seen this before,' Jake said. He was still holding her hand in his, so gently he couldn't possibly be hurting.

'I'm thinking this is something called complex regional pain syndrome,'  he said, and it was as if he was alone with Glenda-everyone else had  disappeared. 'Everything fits. You've had major trauma. So many of the  bones and blood vessels and nerves were damaged that often a physical  recovery masks more complex nerve problems. The symptoms often occur  months after the injury itself. Your hand feels cold and there are areas  of sensory blunting. It feels strange and stiff, like it doesn't quite  belong to you. And then there's the pain. You protect it to stop it  hurting, and the more you protect it, the worse it gets. Your fingers  are already starting to curl. It's hard to make them move.'

'I don't want to move them,' Glenda whispered. 'But it's only my hand. I was so lucky …  I'm better.'

'You're not better. You have nerve damage that needs to be addressed,'  Jake said sternly, and Glenda blinked and looked at him with something  akin to hope.

'The doctors say there's nothing they can do.'

'That might be because you've been talking to surgeons,' Jake said. 'And  no, there's nothing more surgeons can do. Now it's time to move to  another specialty.'

'Like you?'

'Someone like me. I can't prescribe in this country-I'm not registered.  But I'm happy to write a note for you to take to your family doctor,  asking that you be sent to a pain specialist.'

'More morphine?'

'Morphine's not great for this type of pain,' Jake said. 'What you need  is a drug specifically targeting nerve pain, and there are good ones. My  guess is that we can give you immediate relief the moment we get you a  nerve-specific drug. If you agree, first thing tomorrow we can find out  who knows who in this valley and get you on something that will help.'