Four Weddings: A Woman To Belong To / A Wedding in Warragurra / The Surgeon's Chosen Wife / The Playboy Doctor's Marriage Proposal. Fiona Lowe
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Tom exclaimed. He turned to Bec, his face alive with exhilaration. ‘We’ve been working toward this for this for a long time. Hon Gin is a coalmining town, and the streets are literally paved in coal and the air is filled with coal dust.’
Understanding dawned. ‘And many locals have pneumoconiosis. But why does that mean we’re not going to be here tomorrow?’
‘There’s going to be an official handing-over ceremony of the machine on Wednesday and the people’s committee of the province always like to have a doctor at such an occasion.’ Jason tilted his head. ‘So that means Tom has to go. In fact, they like a crowd and as you’ve given your time so generously to Health For Life over the last five weeks, the Health For Life board would like you to accompany Tom to the ceremony.’
It means more time with Tom.
She shook away the unprofessional thought. Accepting the invitation on those grounds was hardly ethical. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I haven’t had anything to do with raising funds for the machine so surely someone else should attend. Wouldn’t it be a bit odd for me to be there?’
Jason shrugged. ‘No, not at all. We’re helping the committee keep face. The more the merrier. We’re not a huge organisation and as I’ve only just got back from leave and the other doctors are busy, it makes sense for the two of you to go.’
She glanced at Tom, trying to gauge how he felt about the idea of her accompanying him, but his face was devoid of all expression. It’s just work, part of the job. Part of his job.
‘You’d really be helping us out,’ Jason implored her.
His words eased her guilty pleasure at wanting to spend more time with Tom. After all, it was work, not pleasure.
‘Sure. Happy to help.’
‘Wonderful. OK, I’d better get back to work and you’ll want to do some washing and repack. The driver will pick you both up at 8.30 in the morning.’ Jason turned to leave.
‘Hang on,’ Tom called across the foyer. ‘Tomorrow’s Tuesday.’
‘Didn’t you say the ceremony was on Wednesday?’ Bec’s words collided with Tom’s.
Jason spun back, a suppressed smile hovering on his face. ‘Part of the thank-you package from the people’s committee in Hon Gin was a private overnight cruise on one of the many Halong Bay boats.’
Bec’s mouth dried at the thought of being alone on a boat overnight with Tom. Not that she feared him. Not at all. She feared herself. ‘But—’
‘You have to go.’ Jason threw her a stern look. ‘It would be extremely rude not to take up the hospitality, and keeping face here is everything.’ Then his face split into a wide smile. ‘Remember to pack your bathers.’ He walked off chuckling.
‘Halong Bay is a world heritage listed area, Bec.’ Tom’s voice broke into her chaotic thoughts. ‘Every Vietnamese longs to visit. The scenery is breathtaking.’
She knew it would be. Tom in bathers, his golden chest exposed to sunlight … now, that would be breath-stopping. Dealing with it would be something else entirely.
* * *
‘Just as well it’s a digital camera.’ Tom laughed as Bec snapped her camera at yet another one of the three thousand jagged, spectacular limestone karsts, which rose majestically from aquamarine-coloured water. ‘I think you’ll find you have a hundred photos of much the same thing.’
‘Philistine. Besides, everyone needs a photo of the teapot.’ She aimed her camera toward the oddly shaped karst with its outcrops of rock that did look like a teapot spout. Then she swung around and took a photo of him, her face alive with excitement.
His body vibrated with heat. She had no idea of the effect she had on him. How he breathed more deeply when she was close, just to get the scent of her. How he created reasons to touch her and made them appear platonic. How the sound of her laughter made everything around him seem brighter, and that her empathy for Vietnam connected her to him like no other person.
The deities were mocking him, sending her into his life now. She deserved a man’s love and undivided attention. He couldn’t offer her that. And he couldn’t ask her for anything else. Friendship was all they had and yet it was nothing like any friendship he’d ever experienced.
The hum of the boat’s engine lulled them into a lazy haze of relaxation as they puttered around the karsts, and in and out of small bays.
‘I have no idea how the captain knows where he’s going. It all looks the same to me.’ Bec leaned over the teak railing, breathing out a sigh of satisfaction. ‘This is the most amazing place I’ve ever been to. I love the idea of the legend that a dragon’s tail carved out the bays.’
‘See over there.’ Tom extended his right arm.
‘See what?’ She peered ahead.
Leaning in close he dropped his left hand onto her shoulder and lifted her right arm to point in the correct direction. ‘Look along there, a third of the way up the karst.’
‘Oh, I see. Is that a cave where the greenery stops and the grey starts?’
He nodded. ‘That’s right.’ He forced his voice to sound casually friendly even though he desperately wanted to pull her into his chest and trail kisses along the curve of her neck. ‘There are vast caves all around this area. They’ve been used for all sorts of things. The French used them as cool storage for food before exporting around the world and the Vietnamese used them as training areas and hospitals for wounded soldiers, but the most amazing story of all is that Kublai Khan, the Mongolian emperor, was defeated here, using the high tide and bamboo sticks.’
‘That’s pretty awesome. So, it’s a significant area for lots of reasons. I read in the guide book that one cave is a temple for fertility.’
‘Yeah, but that particular piece of rock where people worship doesn’t look anything like a teapot.’ He dropped his arm from her shoulder, immediately missing the contact.
A small sampan passed by with a woman and three young children on board. Bec smiled and waved. ‘Looks like the fertility cave is doing its job.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘There are plenty of kids in Vietnam. We have one of the youngest populations in the world.’
Bec continued waving to the children, her gaze fixed on them. ‘What about you? Do you plan to add to the number?’
Her question came out of left field, assaulting his defences. He immediately deflected the question.
‘Mum would love to be a grandmother. She’s never happier than when she’s up to her elbows in play dough, paint and glitter glue.’ He laughed. ‘She’s still working as a kinder assistant to get her fix. Dad teases her but he’s just as bad. He enjoys teaching some of the wayward kids woodwork and he gets them down in the milking shed, mucking out. He reckons there’s nothing quite like getting kids working with animals to help them see the world in a new light.’
Bec’s expression took on a dreamy look. ‘I bet your mum baked cakes and helped out in the classroom.’ Her voice suddenly dropped in volume. ‘And your dad watched you play sport, and insisted on teaching you how to change the tractor oil.’
Somehow she made the ordinary, everyday things of his childhood sound extraordinary. An incredibly clear image of his dad suddenly projected itself into his memory—Dad walking into the kitchen from the milking shed, a broad smile on his weather-beaten face, a billy of creamy milk in one hand and his other hand raised in greeting. An unexpected wave of homesickness rolled through him.
The boat dropped anchor, the rumble of the chain loud in the silence.
‘Tom, you avoided answering my question.’
Her firm voice broke into his thoughts. She’d pinned him down and he