Kiss It Better Page 5

  She nodded, mouth full.

  ‘My family’s a bit different,’ he said. ‘They’re definitely not into freedom. How much do you know about Brigid Care?’

  ‘I know it’s successful.’ Brigid Care was a juggernaut compared to JayBay’s boutique size. It competed with multinational pharmaceutical companies and the man across the table from her ran it.

  ‘My great-great-grandfather Connor Morrigan started as a travelling salesman during the gold rush that made Melbourne’s fortune. Some might have called him a snake oil salesman, but family legend says he really wanted to heal people, though he had no formal training. He had his two oldest sons apprenticed to pharmacists and opened his own pharmacy in his early forties in Melbourne. He believed in education.’

  Cassie was caught by the story. She liked history and as Theo talked, she could imagine the dusty, desperate early days of the business.

  ‘During the gold rush, hundreds of thousands of people poured into Victoria, chasing rainbows. A large number stayed, swelling the population even if they never struck gold. Connor saw an opportunity in the greatly expanded market. His concoctions proved popular. His sons refined them so that they actually helped people beyond the placebo effect. Each son got his own store and sons-in-law were offered the same opportunity.’

  She put the burger down, licked barbeque sauce off a finger and ate a couple of fries. ‘While the women sat at home?’

  Theo snorted. ‘Not in my family. They were suffragettes, early doctors and my great-aunt Lily was a botanist-explorer in the Himalayan foothills. Connor believed in education for everyone. He sponsored scholarships and in his will he established a trust to pay for his descendants’ education. I have a cousin who is studying for his second PhD, happy to be a student forever on the money the trust provides.’

  ‘Handy,’ she observed. She knew how much Theo’s medical degree would have cost. ‘So you became a doctor.’

  ‘Yes. My granddad is one, retired now. It was a familiar career path. Then I discovered sports medicine. I’m competitive by nature. It was an easy fit. I spent a year in the US, studying, then joined a practice in Melbourne.’

  ‘Until your dad had a heart attack.’

  Theo stopped eating and just stared at his plate. ‘My family is complicated.’

  ‘All families are.’

  He glanced up then and smiled ruefully. ‘True.’

  She had a sudden sense of him as a person. He seemed so confident, but his life was off-track too. ‘Will you go back to being a doctor?’

  ‘It depends. Can you stand more family history?’

  ‘Go for it.’

  ‘Connor had a big family and so did many of his kids. But the twentieth century was brutal. They lost sons in the wars. Some of the family sold their shares in the company to other family members so that they’d have money to pursue other dreams, then they lost the money in the Great Depression or in various stupid schemes. But my particular strand of the family, from Connor’s second son, Michael, stayed in the business and kept it strong. That meant we were mostly the ones to buy any shares others wanted to sell.’

  He laid down his knife and fork and pushed aside the plate. ‘We own over half the company. Enough to have final say on everything — and to carry the responsibility for its future.’

  ‘When you say “we”, do you mean you and your dad?’ She ate a fry and waved a hand, offering him some.

  He shook his head. ‘In some ways, if Dad owned the majority of shares it would make things simple. Instead, his uncle Patrick controls a significant chunk. Like Granddad, before he died, Uncle Pat only ever wanted to be a doctor, so management of the company passed from Great-Granddad to Dad. Granddad’s sisters own another significant chunk.’

  ‘Do they have children?’

  ‘Yes, but none they trust with control of the company.’ He hesitated. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

  She didn’t push.

  ‘The thing is, everyone who owns shares in Brigid Care relies on that income. And a fair few of them are elderly cousins. Keeping the company profitable isn’t just a competitive objective, it’s vital.’

  ‘Couldn’t someone else have stepped in?’ she asked. ‘Studying to be a doctor takes so long, to just throw it overboard…’

  ‘My brother is an inventor. A brilliant one. But he can’t manage people. Plus, he isn’t interested.’

  ‘Sisters? Cousins?’

  ‘No sisters and no close cousins. Besides which, having taken on the CEO role, I like it.’

  ‘Oh.’ She couldn’t imagine anything worse.

  ‘I told you. I’m competitive. In sports medicine I work with people to get the best out of their bodies. With Brigid Care I’m building it to get the best now and in the future.’

  ‘But you’re a doctor. You can heal people. Sports medicine mightn’t be important, but you could…’

  He looked at her with a wry, disappointed twist to his mouth.

  She realised what she’d said, denigrating his chosen profession. However when she was right, she was right. Helping athletes win a medal didn’t compare to saving lives, and doctors were desperately needed in Australia and around the world.

  ‘There are lots of ways of being a snob, aren’t there, Cassie?’

  The jab reminded her that they weren’t friends. She sat back as Paula collected their empty plates.

  ‘I’ll bring your desserts in two ticks.’

  ‘And coffee, please?’ Theo asked. ‘Espresso.’

  ‘You won’t sleep,’ Paula said. Flirting.

  ‘I’ll dream of Cassie, instead,’ he promised.

  Paula giggled.

  Cassie frowned. ‘Was that necessary?’ she whispered as Paula retreated to the kitchen.

  He shrugged, muscled shoulders relaxed. A faint smile curved the corners of his mouth, taunting her. Then abruptly he leaned forward. ‘Do you know what I like about sports medicine? My patients were every bit as involved in their health as I was. They lived their lives for optimum health. I liked that; I liked helping them achieve more. And I can do that with Brigid Care.’

  ‘What? You’re going to go into body-building supplements?’ She was honestly confused, but apparently she sounded narky.

  Theo leaned back from her, dark eyebrows pulling together in annoyance. ‘Brigid Care already sells supplements. And that’s not what I’m talking about. When Connor, my great-great-grandfather, started the company, he named it Brigid Care for a reason. Connor was Irish and he had a devotion to St Brigid, a patron of healing. He believed she’d saved his life when he had pneumonia as a young man.’

  ‘One espresso.’ Paula placed the offering in front of Theo, and unasked, placed a fresh glass of soda water in front of Cassie. ‘Apple pie, and a super-duper sundae with extra hot fudge sauce.’

  ‘Thanks, Paula.’ Cassie smiled. Family could be annoying, but they also cared and showed that love.

  Paula smiled back, and out of view of Theo, mouthed, go for it.

  Cassie fought the urge to roll her eyes by taking a large spoonful of sundae. It was good.

  Theo was more focussed. He returned to his story of his grandfather. ‘Connor believed everyone should have access to good quality health care, not simply doctors, but everyday products that helped them look after themselves.’

  She licked the spoon. ‘How do you know what he believed?’

  ‘He was interviewed for a newspaper article late in life. It was by keeping to those values that Brigid Care not only survived, but grew through the Great Depression. You should understand. JayBay’s the same, a business driven by its underlying values. That’s what I want to return to and protect with Brigid Care. Dad was never so focussed on helping people to help themselves. He believes in the grand vision of medical science heroically saving the day.’

  That grand vision made for a good story, but she’d seen the reality in Africa. Incremental steps, building the capacity for communities to help themselves was what was improving lives in the third wor
ld — and those lessons applied everywhere.

  Cassie paused, long-handled sundae spoon dangling, as she had an epiphany. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘I know.’

  This time she did roll her eyes. He sounded so smug.

  His mouth relaxed into a smile. ‘Sometimes saving lives isn’t about direct intervention as a doctor — or nurse — but supporting people’s own actions. With Brigid Care I can ensure people have access to affordable, quality products that build healthy lives.’

  She admired the clarity of his mission and his commitment, and envied him his confidence. When she’d criticised him abandoning his medical practice, he could have attacked her professional desertion. A pointed question about why she wasn’t nursing would have finished her. Instead, he’d opened up and shared with her his motivation. That sort of confidence, being comfortable in his own skin, was the essence of sexiness.

  In contrast…she winced. Yeah, she hadn’t shown herself in any great light. To put it bluntly she’d been a cow, rude and miserable.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I admire you. You know what you’re doing and why, and I hope you achieve your aims.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He studied her face.

  She had to fight to keep her expression even, not twisting like the emotions inside her: envy, grief, failure, depression and rage.

  ‘What’s your nursing specialty?’ He ate the piece of apple pie, but his attention remained on her.

  She recognised it suddenly. Theo had the analytical detachment of a good doctor — or CEO. It gave her hope that he could listen and understand. But being in the mood she was in, she immediately discounted it. ‘You didn’t sign on to hear my life story.’

  ‘It won’t kill me.’

  The understated invitation to confide suited her. She’d dreaded discussing the situation with family or friends. Her emotions were too uncontrolled for sympathy. Crying would worry people, and this was her problem.

  Theo wouldn’t cry with her. And maybe she could talk this out with a stranger. ‘I’m a surgical nurse. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. Caring for patients but also the drama of surgery. And as long as I’ve wanted to be a nurse, I’ve known I’d work in Africa.’

  ‘Which you were doing.’

  She grimaced. ‘Yeah. I qualified and got experience here in Australia before applying with one of the aid agencies.” She licked fudge sauce off the spoon, thinking, remembering. ‘I can’t say they didn’t warn me. I was told what to expect and that few people lasted beyond a year. The physical and emotional strain is too much.’

  ‘But you did.’ It was more statement than question, a quiet vote of confidence.

  ‘Eight months over the contracted year. Then they sent me home. Three weeks ago. I’d stopped sleeping, which meant my concentration was shot. They couldn’t trust me in surgery.’ A long pause till she forced out the words. ‘I couldn’t trust me.’

  ‘Difficult.’

  ‘You’ve no idea. I’ve always been in control, the sort of person who can cope with anything. Like you.’

  ‘Not me. I’ve been there. Flying visit. Enough to know that I couldn’t cope with Africa.’

  Fudge sauce dripped off her suspended spoon as she stared at him. Surely a man like him never admitted weakness.

  ‘I don’t know what triggered the burnout for you, but for me, I couldn’t handle the unendingness of it, that no matter what I did there would be more and more misery. All my efforts, no more than spitting at a bushfire.’

  The futility and frustration his metaphor expressed resonated with her. Suddenly, her ice cream and hot fudge sauce tasted salty with unshed tears. Instead of judgement, there was empathy. He’d understood. It felt like absolution, silencing the self-criticism that whispered she was weak, a failure. The man in front of her was no failure.

  ‘Are you sleeping now?’ It was a doctor’s question.

  ‘It took a week, but yes. This is so weird.’ She laughed, surprised. ‘When I met you earlier today I thought you looked like a sex god.’

  He stopped eating pie and stared at her.

  ‘Now I’m treating you like a priest, telling you all my sins.’

  ‘And in between you saw me as the devil.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘No maybe about it. I was waiting for you to hex me. Begone, foul fiend.’

  She grinned. ‘Idiot.’

  He finished his pie, then considered her over the rim of the espresso cup. ‘What will you do now that your African contract is over? Will Mick selling JayBay screw up your plans?’

  ‘What plans?’ The momentary lightness of her mood flattened, burst-balloon style.

  ‘So you’ll stick with nursing? Cassie?’

  Her expression was probably scary. She could feel her emotions struggling to escape, a new wave of the confusion and despair she’d been fighting. ‘Can we go?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He paid.

  She called a goodbye to Paula and ducked outside where solitude and shadows helped her regroup.

  At the car, Theo took the keys from her. ‘I’ll drive.’

  She huddled in the passenger seat of her dad’s 4WD.

  Instead of driving home, he parked at a lookout point. They were the only visitors. You needed daylight to see the whales on their migratory paths.

  ‘Just how bad is the burnout?’ he asked.

  She stared in front of her at the dark ocean. She’d criticised his decision to be a CEO and not a doctor, but she was wasting her nursing experience, too. It wasn’t just Africa that frightened her. That was her secret. It wasn’t just Africa where she’d failed. Now she was scared of her own profession. Who was she if she couldn’t nurse? ‘The thought of going back into surgery makes me sick. I shake and sweat and feel like hurling.’

  ‘Does Mick know?’

  ‘No. Dad knows I had to quit the aid agency. He thinks I’m on holiday before I apply for another nursing position. I keep thinking I’ll get better. Tomorrow. The next day.’

  ‘You will.’ Warm, deep assurance. ‘It sounds like the panic attacks are a sign of exhaustion. You should get your doctor to give you a full physical. But basically, rest.’ He covered her hands that were twisting and tearing at each other. ‘I’m sorry I’ve added to your stress, Cassie. Let it all go. Trust your dad and I to handle it.’

  ‘It’s not really my business anyway, is it?’

  ‘You’re Mick’s kid. He loves you. So of course it is.’

  ‘I guess I thought that I could come home and everything would be the same. That nothing would ever change here and that I could find my way back to being me. Hell. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you.’

  Her family hadn’t fussed over her because she’d always made it clear she preferred her independence. That was her. Other people could talk about the impact of her parents’ less than amicable divorce or the fact that she was an only child. It was all rubbish. She had the strength to stand up for herself, and she did so.

  But now she wobbled.

  Theo didn’t. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ve told athletes. Sometimes you make faster progress by doing nothing. Rest. And whatever happens with JayBay, your family will be here for you. Don’t be too proud to ask for help.’ He switched on the engine and pulled back onto the road.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. For his tact and compassion. ‘And for the record, no criticism meant, you must be one hell of a doctor.’

  In the glow of the dashboard lights, she saw his head turn fleetingly to her. ‘I’m not so bad, for a sex god.’

  She laughed. ‘I think it was the leather trousers and, you know, stress. Stress makes a woman crazy.’

  ‘Uh-huh. No retracting the sex god compliment.’

  ‘Men and their egos.’

  ***

  Alone in the guest room at the Freedoms’ house, Theo thought back over their conversation. He’d confided more about his family’s business situation than he’d intended, but perhaps it was that show of trust that had en
couraged Cassie to share the truth of her situation.

  She was one brave woman.

  He respected her courage and determination to carry her own troubles. Although everyone needed help now and then — he’d check that she made an appointment with her doctor. Tropical diseases couldn’t be ruled out as a contributing cause to her tiredness. As a doctor, he’d noted her exhaustion when he’d met her on the beach, but as a man, he’d responded to something more elusive, strength of character that challenged and attracted him. Cassie Freedom was rare in her willingness to take responsibility for her own life and choices.

  The sliding glass door to his room faced the ocean. He pushed aside the heavy curtain and stared out at the glimmering darkness of sky and sea.

  Back home in Melbourne, people who refused to take responsibility for their actions surrounded him. Hell. They refused to see that there were consequences to their stubborn insistence on — no! He banged his fist once against the glass. Rehashing the situation wouldn’t change it.

  Tomorrow, he’d work out the details of JayBay’s purchase with Mick. Leighton’s fraud might have devastated the Freedom family, but from Theo’s perspective it had cut through the prolonged negotiations he’d expected to have with Mick. If they agreed terms before noon, he’d be back in Perth by evening. A late night flight and he’d be at his desk at Brigid Care in Melbourne the day after, in a position to push the lawyers to write up the contract and finalise the deal before next month’s board meeting.

  JayBay was concrete proof of his strategy. That’s what the board — all family members — needed to vote on: strategy, not personalities. Because whatever way he viewed things, next month’s meeting could tear his family apart.

  ***

  Cassie stretched luxuriously, waking from the best night’s sleep she’d had in months. Plus, her dreams had been interesting. Theo had starred in them, wearing his motorbike leathers. Her engine had definitely been revved. She laughed, and although she knew Theo was kind rather than interested in her, she took the time to dress in something other than scruffy home clothes: a black tunic patterned in blue butterflies, black leggings and ballet flats.

  It was disappointing to walk into a kitchen smelling of toast and coffee, and find it lifeless. She switched off the radio that had been burbling on low and confusing her with the thought that her dad and Theo were there. In the silence, the house felt empty.