Home > Prognosis Incompatible(8)

Prognosis Incompatible(8)
Author: Amy Andrews

‘He’ll be here any time soon.’

Oh, great, she thought. Was it too late to leave? Then she became annoyed. Why should she have to? George and Mary had been nothing but wonderful since her parents had died and she hadn’t seen them for six weeks.

‘Why on earth would you threaten to evict him?’ asked a shocked George.

‘Because I expected you to be as outraged as me. I thought you’d been hoodwinked by the estate agents and were oblivious to the identity of the new leaseholder.’

‘Why would you think that?’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said sarcastically. ‘How about all the botched-up patients we’ve seen? How about Abby?’

George looked at Madeline over the top of his glasses and sighed. ‘I know she was your sister and you know how much we cared for her, but Abby was a grown woman who made her own decisions about her health care, Madeline,’ he said, gently. ‘Yes, she was foolish but ultimately it was her choice who she consulted that day. You can’t brand the entire industry because of a few bad eggs. Abby must also share some of that responsibility.’

Madeline knew he was right but Abby had paid such a high price for her stupidity. ‘I know that. I’m just surprised that suddenly we appear to be endorsing this stuff.’

‘Madeline.’ George stood and came closer. ‘Marcus is one of Melbourne’s top people in alternative medicine. He’s even worked with elite athletes, helping them find alternative medicines to treat their ailments because so much conventional stuff is on the banned list. We had him thoroughly checked out. He holds a bona fide medical degree. He’s not some radical quack. Just a good doctor offering people choices based on sound medical and homoeopathic principles. The best of both worlds.’

She knew George was making sense but an image of Marcus’s dimpled smile was stuck in her brain and she wanted it gone. ‘Why wasn’t I consulted?’

‘You’ve been away for six weeks.’

‘There are such things as telephones.’

‘It wasn’t a decision we made lightly, Madeline. We all discussed it and agreed that it would be good for the practice to promote holistic care. You’re not the only one keen to make changes so we can attract new clients. You opened the box and you’ve really helped revive the practice, but we have ideas, too. So many people come in these days wanting alternatives to pills and intrusive medical procedures. At least we can refer them to someone with an impeccable reputation.’

‘You mean you’re actually going to refer patients to him?’

‘If I feel it’s warranted. If it’s what they want — yes.’

‘I don’t know, George. It’s one thing to tolerate him but to legitimise what he does by passing work his way is another thing entirely. You know we have to strive for best practice. And that has to be evidence-based.’

‘Come on, Madeline, so much of modern medicine and pharmacology is based on old remedies.’

She nodded thoughtfully. ‘Maybe. But that’s the problem with a lot of this alternative nonsense, isn’t it? There’s no written studies to back up claims. If it isn’t written somewhere, proven in some double-blind study somewhere, I don’t think I’ll be referring any of my patients.’

And she wanted as little to do with him as possible. There was something strange that happened inside her when she was around him. It was confusing and she didn’t need it in her life. As it was, she was going to have sit through lunch with him.

Him and his blue eyes and wicked dimples.

‘You will be nice to him, won’t you, dear?’ said Mary.

Manners were very important to Mary. ‘Of course, Mary. I’m always polite.’

Madeline worked hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. Since when had she ever not done the right thing?

The phone rang, interrupting their conversation. Madeline hoped it was Marcus cancelling lunch but when George didn’t come back from answering it, she assumed it was for him. Mary went to check on lunch, ordering Madeline to stay where she was and relax.

Which she did.

Despite the frisson of apprehension about Marcus, the combination of the heat and wine and jet lag and the quiet tranquillity of the Blakely residence had her eyelids growing heavy. Horses neighed and cows mooed and the smell of freshly cut grass filled her senses and she succumbed to the lure of just shutting her eyes for a minute or two.

Madeline vaguely heard the chiming of the doorbell but was still lost in the nether world of sleep when Mary directed their guest outside. ‘Madeline’s out on the deck. I’ll be there in a moment, Marcus, dear. George won’t be long.’

Marcus strolled out, steeling himself for uptight Maddy, still annoyed at him about what had happened at the hospital. He almost did a double-take when Madeline’s sleeping form came into view. She wasn’t remotely uptight in slumber. Her hair was loose and her eyes were closed and her disapproving mouth was soft and her frown was gone.

He suddenly knew how the prince in Sleeping Beauty must have felt.

She lay reclined in the chair, her long legs stretched out on the leg supports of the squatter’s chair. A half-empty wine glass balanced on the broad arm. His eyes drifted to the steady rise and fall of her chest. She wore a jade-green T-shirt with a rounded neckline that clung to her very nice breasts.

The temperature outside suddenly got a lot hotter and Marcus felt his mouth go dry as his groin stirred. God! She was beautiful. He had no idea who the man was that Maddy had committed herself to but he was one lucky guy.

Madeline frowned slightly as an image of Marcus floated in front of her. His bare chest and dimples mocked her and she woke with a start, disorientated, her subconscious trying to drag her back into the lingering folds of her dream even as her unfocussed gaze came to land on Marcus.

He was staring at her and her frown deepened. The fog shrouding her brain, intensified by her out-of-sync body clock, couldn’t compute the image in front of her. Was she still dreaming? Or was she dreaming that she was awake?

Madeline blinked rapidly a few times and rubbed her eyes. Yep — she was definitely awake. And Marcus was definitely sitting at the table, drinking a beer. Looking at her.

‘Maddy.’ He nodded. ‘Long time, no see.’

Feeling vulnerable in her reclined position, Madeline struggled to get out of the chair. ‘Madeline,’ she grouched, annoyed that he’d showed up. ‘The name is Madeline!’

‘Do you need a hand?’ he asked, amused at her flailing attempts to stand.

She ignored him, finally rising to her feet and walking down to the far corner of the deck, wineglass in hand. He was dressed as he’d been at the hospital. His comment about seeing her sooner than she thought flashed back.

‘You knew!’ she accused. ‘You knew at the hospital you were coming here.’

‘Mary invited me this morning. It seems she’s rather keen for us to meet. Besides...I never refuse a home-cooked meal.’

Madeline was just about to scold him for his deliberate omission when Mary joined them. ‘Everything okay?’ she asked, a little frown drawing her brows together as she noted the distance between them.

‘Great,’ Madeline assured, plastering a smile on her face.

‘Marcus...’ Mary wagged her finger at him. ‘You never said you and Madeline had already met.’

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