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On a little boy in the kids’ ward. ‘He could be anyone’s.’
Yeah, but he looked like a Lockhart.
‘Is there any sort of Child Welfare in the M’Langi group?’ he asked.
‘We don’t need Child Welfare,’ Hettie snapped, and Keanu cast her a surprised look. But then he shrugged and addressed Max.
‘We don’t normally need Child Welfare,’ Keanu agreed. ‘The islanders usually look after their own, but Joni’s an exception. He’s an outsider.’
‘He’s not an outsider. He belongs here, and if Max won’t look after him, I will.’ Hettie murmured the words almost to herself, but for a murmur it had power. The words were almost like a vow.
They made Keanu pause. The doctor stood back from the table and stared at Hettie, who was still looking at Max’s legs fiercely.
‘What the...? Het, are you suggesting you adopt him?’
‘If no one else claims him, yes.’
‘You can’t decide that now.’
‘I have decided. If his family doesn’t want him, I do. I mean it. Keanu, do you want to keep cleaning or will I take over?’
Keanu stared at her for a moment longer and then silently went back to cleaning. There was a tense stillness, broken only by the sound of tiny chinks of coral hitting the kidney basin.
His legs really were a mess but, then, everything was a mess, Max thought grimly. So what was new? When hadn’t life been a mess?
For just a moment, this morning, watching the sun rise, watching the fish darting in and out of the water, watching a pod of dolphins give chase, he’d given himself time out. He’d thought, What if...?
What if he finally let himself be free?
Twenty-six years ago his wife had died on this island, giving birth to twins. He and Ellie had been babies themselves, barely twenty.
He’d met Ellie at university. They’d both been arts students, surrounded by friends, high on life. They’d fallen in love and when they’d discovered a baby was on the way they’d accepted the pregnancy with all the insouciance of youth.
‘Maybe it’s not a mistake,’ Ellie had told him. ‘Maybe we’re meant to be a family.’ The knowledge that she’d been carrying twins had only added to their feeling of excitement.
‘How do you feel about marrying on Wildfire?’ he’d asked, and she’d been ecstatic.
‘The Lockhart family home? Your real-life island? Max, can we?’
They could, but not until summer vacation. They’d travelled to the island as soon as exams had ended. Ellie had been thirty-two weeks pregnant, excited about her pregnancy, excited about her sheer bulk.
He remembered their welcome. His mother had been wild with joy at their homecoming. His father had been gravely pleased that his son had found someone so beautiful to wed. No one had worried that Ellie had been pregnant at the ceremony. After all, what trouble could come to this truly blessed couple?
No one had worried that twin pregnancies sometimes spelled trouble.
He remembered his brother the night before the wedding. Ian had been blind drunk, toasting him for the hundredth time. They’d lit a campfire on the beach. Ian had waved his glass towards the island and then out at the stars hanging bright and low over the ocean.
‘Here’s to us, bro. We’ve got it all.’
He’d even been stupid enough to agree. The next day, he’d married. They’d danced into the small hours.
Ellie had gone into labour that night.
There had been no medical centre on the island then. They’d faced an agonising wait for medical evacuation, while Ellie had bled and bled.
She’d died before help arrived. The twins, Caroline and Christopher, had survived, but prematurity and birth trauma meant Christopher would be burdened with cerebral palsy for the rest of his life.
Christopher. His son.
‘Family dynasty or something? He is a Lockhart.’
No. Christopher was his son, he thought grimly. Not some child called Joni. How could he ever want another child?
He closed his eyes and Keanu paused again.
‘If this is hurting too much, let me knock you out.’
‘Just go for it.’
There was silence as Keanu started work again. Undercurrents were everywhere, Max thought, gritting his teeth against the pain.
‘Het, you won’t be able to just...adopt him,’ Keanu said at last into the stillness. ‘You’ll have to go through channels. If it’s really what you want then we’ll support you, but you’re not deciding this today. This suggestion seems right out of the blue. It’s a huge decision and there are legal channels to be dealt with. You know we come under Australian legal jurisdiction. If Joni doesn’t have relatives on the island...’ Here he cast a quick glance at Max. ‘As the island’s acting medical director, I’ll need to report Sefina’s death and Joni’s status to the mainland authorities. A kid like Joni...there’d be mainland couples lined up to adopt a toddler like him. You’ll need to plead some special case to be allowed to keep him.’
‘Sefina was my friend,’ Hettie told him.
‘Sefina was your patient.’
‘I let her down.’
‘We all let her down but her death is not our fault. I’m not about to let a guilty conscience force you into adoption.’
‘I’m not being forced.’
‘Why would you want to adopt?’ Max asked, and they both paused in their work, as if they’d forgotten he was there.
Maybe they should have had this discussion without him, Max thought. After all, it had nothing to do with him. Just because it was Ian’s child...
This little boy is yours.
No. He wanted nothing to do with Ian’s child.
His own son was dead. His daughter was about to be married to the man of her dreams and he might even be free of another responsibility.
All his life he’d accepted the responsibility the Lockharts had carved for themselves through generations of ownership. Every spare cent he’d earned had been ploughed back into this hospital. He’d worked so hard...
But now... In the next couple of days Max would meet the man who’d funded a world’s best tropical diseases research facility and tropical resort on Wildfire. Ian had conned a Middle Eastern oil billionaire—a sheikh, no less—into purchasing island land for the resort, but the sale had been built on forged signatures and falsehoods. Island land was held in a Lockhart family trust for perpetuity and Ian had had no power to sell. Amazingly, though, once he’d known the facts, the sheikh had still been prepared to invest, leasing instead of buying. He had seemingly limitless money and resources. He was giving work to the islanders, giving hope, and for the first time since that night before his wedding, twenty-six years ago, Max was feeling a taste of freedom.
Maybe he could walk away from here and never come back.
This little boy is yours. Hettie’s words, Keanu’s words meant nothing. They couldn’t. He did not want any more responsibility.
But finally Hettie was answering his question. ‘I want to adopt because I can,’ she said. It was as if she’d needed time to work out her answer, but now she had it clear. ‘I’ve spent my life looking out for no one but myself. Sitting out on the atoll this morning, holding Joni, knowing Sefina was dead, it crowded in on me. I give nothing. I love...nothing. If I can have Joni... I will love him, Keanu. I promise.’
‘But