Leah Martyn - Wedding in Darling Downs (Medical Romance)

IT WAS winter. Early morning. And cold.

Emma burrowed her chin more deeply into the roll-collar of her fleece as she jogged the last of the way home across the park.

The cawing of a crow disturbed the peace. Emma slowed her step and looked about her. She loved this time before sunup. The moist atmosphere never failed to lift her spirits. And heaven knew she could do with a bit of that. Mist was everywhere, as translucent and filmy as a bridal veil. It seemed to have a life of its own, breathing up from the earth, softening the stark winter outlines of the trees.

Emma clicked back into the present, regaining her momentum. She hadnt time to be indulging in fanciful thoughts. Another long day at the surgery loomed. But time for Kingsholme to keep functioning as a viable medical practice was running out. Her fathers sudden death almost three months ago had left Emma in disarray. Both personally and professionally. If she didnt line up another partner quickly, the medical practice that had been founded by her grandfather would have to close. One lone doctor, namely her, couldnt hope to generate enough income to keep the place functioning.

The end result would be for the practice and the beautiful old home that encompassed it to go under the auctioneers hammer.

The new owner, perhaps someone with an eye to the tourist potential of the district, would probably turn it into a bed and breakfast. And their little town would be left without a resident medical officer.

Emmas spirits plummeted to a new low. The nerves in her stomach began knotting up again.

I should be able to get a doctor interested enough to work here, she berated herself. Even a decent locum who could fill the gap until a suitable partner came along. Perhaps her interviewing technique was all wrong. The few people who had actually showed, had taken one look at the set-up and promptly, if a bit awkwardly, fled.

Lifting the latch on the back gate, she made her way along the path and ran quickly up the steps to the verandah. She had time for a shower and marginally less time for breakfast. And then shed better open the surgery and start seeing patients.

In her consulting room later, Emma threw her pen aside and lifted her arms in a long stretch. It had been another crazy morning. She couldnt go on like this. She just couldnt

A soft tap sounded on her door before it opened. Moira Emma managed a passable smile for the practice manager come to tell me its lunch time already?

Moira Connelly, whod been with the practice for at least twenty years, came into the room and closed the door. She looked pointedly at Emmas untouched cup of tea and the half-eaten muffin and clucked a motherly concern. You dont eat enough, Emma.

Emma lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug. Ill be out in a tick. Perhaps we could open a can of soup for lunch.

Ill manage something. Moira flapped a hand in dismissal. Actually, I came to tell you theres a Dr Declan OMalley here to see you.

A sudden light leapt into Emmas green eyes. Has he come about the job?

Moira shook her head. Apparently, he knew your dad.

Oh Emma bit her lips together, the grief she felt still raw and unchannelled.

Moira paused, pulling the edges of her cardigan more closely together, as if warding off a sudden chill. I expect he wants to offer his condolences.

I guess so Emmas short ray of hope faded into a heavy sigh. Give me a minute, please, Moira and then ask Dr OMalley to come through.

Emma watched the door close behind Moira and then swung off her chair and went to stand at the picture window, looking out. She imagined this Dr OMalley was a contemporary of her fathers from Melbourne. In earlier times Andrew Armitage had forged a rather distinguished medical career before the call of home had brought him back here to the town of Bendemere on the picturesque Darling Downs in Queensland.

Emma had spent holidays here, been happy here. So it had seemed only natural to come flying home when her world had fallen apart. Her return had coincided with the resignation of her fathers practice partner. Emma had stepped in, proud to work alongside her father. In the past year shed begun to pull the shattered bits of her life together until it was almost making a whole picture again.

Then her father had suffered a massive heart attack, leaving her to cope alone.

Declan OMalley prowled the reception area. In a few seconds hed know whether Emma Armitage would welcome his visit or tell him to go to hell. God, he hoped shed be reasonable. The situation demanded she be reasonable.

Oh, Dr OMalley Moira fluttered back into reception. Sorry to keep you waiting. Emma was just finishing up. She waved towards an inner corridor. Second door on your left.

Thanks. Declan acknowledged the information with a slight lifting of his hand. He paused outside what was obviously Emmas consulting room, took a deep breath, gave a courtesy knock to warn of his imminent entry, and then moved in with every intention of being at his diplomatic best.

Emma turned from the window. Her throat dried. Every molecule in her body felt as though it had been swiftly rearranged. Shed been expecting a man in her fathers age group, a man in his sixties. But Declan OMalley in no way fitted that description. He looked in the prime of his life, all six feet of him. Mentally roping off the very mixed emotions she felt, she went forward and offered her hand. Dr OMalley.

Emma. Declan ditched formality, enfolding her hand easily within his own. Your father told me such a lot about you.

Well, its more than he told me about you, Emma thought, blinking several times in quick succession, long lashes swooping against her pale cheeks.