Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor? (4 page)

Bonnie screwed up her face and Harry laughed out loud. ‘Double dare you.’

Drink second-hand coffee beans? ‘I don’t think so.’

‘In the States it sells for more than a hundred bucks a pound. Not something you’ll have a lot of chance to try again.’

True. But who’d want to? She followed Harry through to the coffee tables, where the rest of the group were ordering their coffee, and before she knew it she was sitting beside Harry with a steaming cup of black brew in front of her.

And everyone else seemed to be tasting it.
Ew.

She looked around again and the Portuguese girls were chatting up the chefs as they sipped, and everyone still looked happy with their experience.

She was the only one not drinking. Even Harry had his cup.

Bonnie took a cautious sip. ‘It tastes a bit like mocha.’

Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that what that is?’

He could tease. She put her cup down. ‘Well, at least I tried it.’

Harry gave up his short-lived attempt to keep his distance with her. She delighted him with her honesty. She couldn’t hide a single thought with those straightforward eyes of hers. Talk about windows to the soul. They telegraphed every thought and emotion like a green neon sign. Scary, and despite her antsy, prickly little exterior he could feel the need to protect her from the world like a growing seed inside him.

Hopefully that little weed of concern for her would die from lack of sunlight when she flew away. But for the moment he could give in to these crazy feelings because she’d only be there for a few days and he had no plans.

He could feel the chuckle in his chest as she manfully swallowed the coffee she didn’t want. He reached across the table and scooped her hand into his, and she
let her fingers lie there. It felt good to have her warm and protected by him. He tried not to see the grin of Wayan, who’d never seen Harry so circumspect with a young woman in all the time he’d known him.

Bonnie couldn’t remember the last time she’d held hands with a man. Her fiancé hadn’t been into handholding and it had almost been worth a taste of kopi luwak coffee for the buzz of feeling a situation she hadn’t tried before.

Like she belonged with Harry for this minute anyway. She was having a holiday fling, almost. Good grief. Her girlfriends in Darwin would be whooping with joy.

‘Come on, the bus is leaving, you can leave the last bit. We get to find our bikes now and the real fun begins.’ They held hands all the way to the bus and it felt ‘nice’.

Back on the bus, this time his hip returned to rest against hers again and their knees bumped companion-ably together as the bus ground down the hill. It was as good as she’d remembered and she smiled secretly at her own reflection in the window.

The village that housed the bikes seemed deserted but Harry chose for her the least battered pushbike, no doubt drawing on his experience of bike fallibility, and the tread on the narrow tyres at least looked new.

‘Have a little pedal around here while everyone gets their bike,’ he said, and she climbed on with a nervous grimace. It had been years and she fought the tremble in her knees as she took off.

At least she could touch the ground easily. The Portuguese girl had a death wobble until Harry stopped
her and put her seat down for safety. Bonnie liked it that he cared.

Between Harry and the Balinese guides, everyone had their bikes set to go within ten minutes, bottles of water were handed out and then the lead rider took off with all his less confident ducklings behind him. Everyone except Harry and the fitness instructor rode stiffly. Bonnie and Harry brought up the rear, which seemed to set them apart in their own world.

The descent started out gradual. A bit like the way she’d little by little become relaxed around Harry, though he’d become slightly anxious when she’d nearly steered her bike into an unexpected drain at the side of the road.

‘That ditch would have swallowed you. Stay nearer the centre,’ Harry pleaded as she veered his way again suddenly to avert another catastrophe.

From then on he positioned his bike to keep her out of the gutter.

‘Whew.’ She took her hand off the handle to dry her sweaty palms on her used-to-be-white trousers. ‘How embarrassing it would be to wipe out in the first kilometre.’

‘Or worse,’ he muttered, and glanced across at her. ‘You can’t just choose an orthopaedic surgeon here, you know.’

Bonnie laughed. ‘I missed the hole. Nothing to worry about.’ In fact, she felt remarkably relaxed now that the initial wobbles had disappeared.

The sun was shining, the road had the occasional country vehicle, but most of the time it was just the bike riders, fields and villages as they sailed past.

Harry pointed out features of different village temples, family buildings and the census plaques on top of the entry arches, which Bonnie had never noticed before.

‘So each census tag has how many sons and their families, and how many adults and children live in the family compound.’

Bonnie slowed as they peddled past the entrance to another family compound and this time she could make out the little strokes denoting the family members. ‘Cool. So there’s five children in that compound.’

‘Yep.’ He looked quite pleased she was interested but it was no hardship. She found the insight into Balinese culture fascinating. And it was also attractive that Harry wanted to share his own interest with her.

Too many things were attractive about him. ‘You care about these people, don’t you? You’re not just interested in them out of curiosity.’

He nodded. ‘Of course. I’ve spent a lot of time here and anyone who does that comes to appreciate Bali and her people.’

‘So why don’t you work here?’

‘I do a bit.’ He didn’t enlarge on it. Instead he said, ‘My friend was born in a village near here. Sometimes the kids run out to wave as we ride by. They’ll hold their hands out for a high five. It can give you a fright.’

The rest of the bike riders had stopped up ahead. There was a generalised wobble as they all put their feet down and Bonnie was no exception. She glanced at Harry’s face as he tried to hide his grin. ‘Don’t even think about laughing.’

She pretended to frown at him and he held up his hands as if to say, ‘Never.’

‘We’ll go through the village here, and then later on you’ll be able to recognise the layout and functions of the buildings and compounds we still have to go past.’

She glanced down the discreet dirt track between the buildings and couldn’t help feeling a little uncomfortable at the invasion of privacy. There seemed to be people at work in each section but none of them appeared fazed by the intrusion.

The whole compound looked sparse and basic. Not a place that was used to luxuries she took for granted every day. Happy children ran up and down with shrieks of merriment and a young father smiled at them as he plaited strips of thin bamboo with his tiny son.

Bonnie lowered her voice and leant closer to Harry. ‘So what do they do for wages here?’

‘Bamboo production.’ He pointed to the huge stand of thick bamboo that grew at the bottom of the street. ‘Dewi, here, is a skilled plaiter and his sheets of bamboo matting are used for the internal ceilings of most types of buildings. When you go back to your hotel you’ll notice that the roof in your bedroom is made up of this plaited bamboo. It’ll be from a village like this. Dewi’s work is much sought after.’

Bonnie smiled at the young Balinese man and she couldn’t help her wider grin when she realised his son was trying to plait a smaller version of his father’s work. His little face was screwed up in concentration as he laboriously weaved.

The father spoke in Balinese and Harry laughed and answered him, then turned to Bonnie. ‘He said his son
looks perfect now but he’ll get sick of it soon and start to cause mischief.’

‘Where’s his mother?’

Harry pointed to a covered work area ahead. ‘She’s stripping the bamboo with his grandmother, further down. Each villager does part of the process, from the man beside the bamboo who harvests to those that split it in half then quarters and pass it on to the next section, who keep thinning it down until Dewi has workable strips to weave with.’

They moved past the sections, the tourists snapping pictures and watching the villagers work, and all the time Harry spoke to the villagers in their own language, smiling and greeting them by name.

It was interesting to Bonnie how the people they met hailed Harry, patted him on the back, called out to him, considering he seemed transient, and she wondered if he ever thought of when he would leave and get on with his life.

But why should she care? She could feel a creeping sense of evangelistic purpose to save Harry’s working soul and she stamped it down.

Stop it. He’d not thank her for it and it was none of her business. He was just a man she’d met. But a place inside her ached for the occasional glimpse of the caring, lost soul he tried to hide. She pulled her thoughts away and concentrated on village life.

She admired the one cow the family owned, the eldest son’s pride and joy and, according to Harry, a huge investment. The cow chewed placidly and stared at them from a private sheltered bale, a long-lashed, happy cow, living in Utopia.

Pigs snorted in muddy pens and chickens darted underfoot, chased by a red-combed rooster, and Harry told her the wives cared for the other animals while the husbands cared for the cow.

Consistently, it seemed Harry picked up on her interest when the guide spoke of traditions and when he mentioned the ceremonies each family was responsible for.

Harry enlarged on the subject after Wayan had moved on. ‘The cost of a burial sometimes take years for a family to save for—it can cost the same as their one cow. But the family are happy to ensure their relation is cremated with a full and proper celebration.

She looked around at the bare compound. ‘What if the family can’t afford a funeral when someone dies?’

‘The person is temporarily buried, maybe a year or two, and exhumed when they can afford it. Or sometimes when another family is having a funeral they share the costs with several families who have members to bury. But it’s a necessary expenditure for ancestor status.’

Harry waved at another man and as he stopped to talk Bonnie caught the eye of a young pregnant woman sitting quietly in the doorway of a building, slicing ginger.

There was something about the way she held her neck stiffly that attracted Bonnie’s attention and she drifted over to say hello.

The young woman peeled the grey root swiftly and surely but every few minutes her face changed and she glanced down at her stomach. When she looked up she must have seen the concern in Bonnie’s eyes because she shook her head as if to say it was nothing.

Bonnie allowed her own glance to drift down and tried to estimate the gestation of the pregnancy. Nearly full term, that was for sure, but not a big baby. Harry wandered off to talk to the Portuguese couple and Bonnie edged towards the doorway.

‘Hello. I’m Bonnie. I’m afraid I don’t speak much Balinese.’

‘I am Mardi.’ The young woman’s voice was very soft and to Bonnie’s relief quietly confident with her English. ‘I worked in a restaurant before I married my husband and speak good English.’

‘You’re very clever. My Indonesian is bad apart from
hello
and
good morning.’
She smiled. ‘Is your baby giving you pains?’

Mardi glanced down at her stomach with a gentle smile. ‘A little. But he is not due until next month. It has happened for a little while each day this last week so I’m hoping my belly will go soon to sleep.’

J
UDGING
from the changing expressions on the young woman’s face, Bonnie doubted these pains would go away.

Bonnie waited for the strain to ease from Mardi’s face again. Pretty decent contraction, she thought. When it had gone she said, ‘Maybe she or he has decided to come today.’

Mardi looked down at the brown dust beneath her feet. ‘Not today. My husband is away working to save money. We cannot afford the midwife yet.’

Bonnie wasn’t sure how that worked when nature didn’t play the game. ‘What about the hospital?’

Calmly Mardi shook her head and her thick black hair barely moved in the coiled bun. ‘The hospital costs are even greater.’ She grimaced again and Bonnie frowned.

‘Looks like labour to me,’ Bonnie muttered under her breath. She’d seen quite a few. ‘Have the pains been this close and strong before?’

Mardi shook her head and this time Bonnie saw the start of the glint of tears in her beautiful brown eyes. ‘Perhaps I am a little fearful.’

Fear was the last thing a woman in labour needed. ‘Is your husband’s mother here?’

Mardi’s coil shifted slightly again. ‘She died at his birth. Which is why he wishes for me to have the midwife. His grandmother is here, but she cannot see well. His brother’s wife is here and had one son in the hospital.’

Bonnie wanted to hug her but she also didn’t want to intrude if she wasn’t wanted. ‘I’m a midwife in Australia. Can I help you?’

Bonnie glanced over her shoulder, hoping to catch the eye of Harry, but he was still laughing with the Portuguese girls.

She glared at him in frustration. As if she’d touched him, or thrown something at him, he stopped what he was saying and glanced her way. Without a word he crossed the road to her side.

He nodded at Mardi and lowered his voice as he looked at Bonnie. ‘Is everything all right?’

Bonnie was thrown for a moment. Coincidence? Telepathy? She had no idea how that had worked. He’d been receptive and come quickly. The concept that she’d called him without words sent a trickle of unease through her. That was too much connection.

No. Just coincidence, that’s all.

The thought was closely followed by the priorities she’d let slip as Mardi drew another sharp breath. ‘We need to find Mardi’s husband because she’s going into labour.’

Bonnie had no doubt now. Just looking at Mardi, anyone would tell the time for false labour had passed and she’d bet her borrowed pushbike the baby would
come today. ‘He’s away to save money for the midwife.’

To her surprise Harry paled and then seemed to shake himself into sense. His eyes narrowed and she could almost see his mind weighing the options. For a carefree surfer he was on the ball quickly. ‘I’ll take you to the hospital. The backup vehicle for the bike ride is parked outside.’

One lone tear slid down Mardi’s cheek. ‘I don’t want to go to the hospital without my husband. I will wait for him.’

‘Hospitals cost a lot,’ Bonnie murmured quietly, as if mentioning a common fact, and Harry looked at her and nodded but he wasn’t happy.

He rubbed his neck. ‘But will that baby wait for you both?’ Harry said what Bonnie was thinking. Mardi bit back a moan and Harry looked at Bonnie.

A glance akin to horror lurked in his eyes, again totally unexpected. But she guessed laypeople were often fazed by the myths and misconceptions surrounding childbirth.

‘Birth’s a normal event,’ she couldn’t help saying. ‘Could you get Mardi’s sister-in-law, please? And a doctor, if you can find one.’ Bonnie rested her hand on Mardi’s arm. ‘Perhaps we could go to your house and you could collect what you would need to take with you, for when your husband arrives?’

In fact, Bonnie wanted to see where they could have this baby if it came more quickly than any of them anticipated.

‘We could do that,’ Mardi whispered, and she stood gingerly when the next contraction had passed. Bonnie
mentally rifled through the belongings she had on her that could be helpful, but she’d only carried a waist pack that held very little.

She gave herself a mental shake. Harry would sort something out if she asked him. The important thing was to get Mardi comfortable and semiprepared for her baby’s possibly precipitous arrival.

This wasn’t an unusual scenario in Outback Australia if a baby arrived early and one that didn’t faze Bonnie too much. Though it would’ve been nice if there was a doctor around to share the load, in case of an emergency. She doubted she’d be legal to practise in a foreign country.

Harry strode off to search out Mardi’s sister-in-law and as he walked he fumed at the cruelty of fate.

Why now, why here, why him? It was all very well for Bonnie to be blasé about birth, typical midwife, but she hadn’t seen what he had. The last thing he wanted was a medical catastrophe in a Third World village. He’d have to be the doctor, get involved, and probably still not be able to improve the outcome.

He should never have come here with her. It was his own stupid fault. He’d known women were trouble he needed to avoid.

He caught sight of his quarry, Mardi’s sister-in-law, and hastened his footsteps. Maybe if they found Mardi’s husband quickly they could still get to the hospital in time. But if he’d interpreted Bonnie’s face correctly, she had her doubts. He had his own.

Bonnie and Mardi had left the industrious centre of the village and moved into the narrow street of the family dwellings. Bonnie counted four buildings in a
smaller compound and one stood higher than the rest, with steep steps leading up to the small veranda.

Mardi intercepted Bonnie’s glance. ‘My husband’s grandparents’ house. The grandparent house is higher than others as a mark of respect. As it should be.’

Mardi gestured down at a round shiny river rock to the left of the grandparent’s steep steps. ‘There lies the placenta of my husband’s nephew. It is my husband’s task to clean and bury our child’s placenta below these steps.’

‘So one stone, one grandchild?’

‘That is correct. And should I have a girl it would be buried on the right side of the step.’

Bonnie grinned. She loved it. This was delicious food for a midwife’s soul. Fabulous information, and she wondered if Harry was aware of it.

The next building they passed contained two sparse kitchens, side by side, and Mardi glanced inside. Despite her worries, Mardi smiled. ‘This kitchen is mine, and the other belongs to my husband’s brother’s wife, Nyomen. It is said peace cannot exist if two women have to share a kitchen.’

‘What a sensible arrangement.’ Bonnie smiled with her. ‘I can see that everyone lives very close together here.’

‘Family is very important in Bali.’ They both slipped off their shoes and Mardi gestured to Bonnie to precede her up the stairs to a room that shared a veranda with another room. ‘This is my home. Everybody knows everyone else’s business. We share all joys and sorrows. You cannot help but do so when we live this close.’

‘And what is the other building that looks like a covered platform?’

‘That is where we hold our ceremonies. Where my child will be blessed when three months old and can first touch the ground.’

Bonnie couldn’t help a brief sidetrack. ‘Three months before a baby can touch the ground?’

Mardi nodded. ‘To touch the ground before then would allow the chance of evil spirits to enter a child.’

She’d bet some parents at home would disagree with that but she could see the warmth and benefit in a child knowing a pair of arms would always be there for them. No wonder the Balinese people smiled so much—they knew how much love and care was taken of them from the moment of birth.

Mardi stopped and leant against the doorframe. Bonnie waited quietly beside her and let her thoughts drift into that distant space she seemed to go to when she was waiting with a woman—not really a daydream when she thought of other things, more of a holding pattern that didn’t use any energy or was distracting for the woman, that just ‘was’, while she waited.

The pain eased and Mardi moved inside the house just as her sister-in-law, Nyomen, arrived with Harry and glided up the stairs to help.

The two women embraced and Bonnie moved back to the edge of the veranda as Nyomen gathered several sarongs and a water bottle.

When the young mother-to-be stopped and leant against her sister-in-law again, Bonnie leant down to speak to Harry. ‘Is her husband coming?’

Harry nodded stiffly, strain in every line of his body. ‘He should be here soon.’

Good. But she doubted this baby would wait. ‘So, ever been present for a birth, Harry?’ His face closed and she could feel her own forehead crease. That looked bad.

So when he said, ‘No,’ she was almost surprised.

‘Ah.’ Pretending not to be surprised. ‘That explains your nerves. Everything will be fine.’

‘No, thanks. Let’s get her out of here.’ Harry’s face held the granite stiffness she’d seen at the pool the day she’d first seen him. There were things going on here she couldn’t fully fathom and unfortunately now wasn’t the time to ask.

She rested her hand on his arm and he looked at her. ‘We’ll all be fine.’ Bonnie actually felt sorry for him. ‘She won’t go to the hospital until her husband arrives. I’m afraid it’s too late for that, anyway.’

She thought he’d heard her and accepted that, but then he shook his head as if waking from a trance. ‘It’s not too late. I’m not stupid. Let’s grab her and go.’

She touched his arm again. ‘Harry. Listen to me.’ Her voice was very quiet so as not to disturb the labouring woman. ‘And what? Have the baby in that old bus?’

She saw the moment when he really saw her, saw her logic, had to accept reality and the impending birth. He ran his hands through his hair and gradually his face softened, though there was no doubting his reluctance to face the inevitable. She saw the flash of pain that followed and was quickly hidden. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. Lost it for a moment there.’

‘It must have been a very bad experience,’ she said
quietly. There was more history here than she’d anticipated. ‘What can I do to help you, Harry?’

‘Nothing.’ He glanced at her and then away. Every barrier in place shielding him from her empathy. ‘Now, what do you need?’

He was right. Maybe she had it wrong. This was the response she’d expected from Harry. Thank goodness. She felt the pack around her waist and undid the zipper.

‘I don’t imagine I’ll be doing much. I just want to be here to help keep Mardi and her baby safe. Maybe good old-fashioned boiling water to sterilise some string and a knife to cut the cord.’ She patted the miniature bottle of hand-sanitiser she always kept in her bag. ‘Or I could clean the knife with this.’ She looked around. ‘And maybe a dish of warm water to sponge Mardi with afterwards.’

‘What about the drugs you won’t have?’

It seemed a strange thing to say but she shrugged it off. ‘She’s healthy and we don’t have any. She’ll breastfeed. This is what women are designed to do. Her body will look after her. Why should she be unlucky?’

He held up his hands. ‘Okay. Just thought I’d mention it.’

‘Maybe there is one thing. Will you reassure Mardi and Nyomen I’m a midwife and I’d like to stay until after the baby is born if her husband doesn’t arrive in time? The most important thing is for her not to be frightened.’

He sighed. ‘I can do that.’ And more quietly so she only just heard, ‘That’s about all I’m good for.’

When he’d finished speaking the two women nodded
their consent, and there was relief in both faces, relief that made Harry grimace as he turned back to her.

‘I’ll go see about the string and the water.’

Mardi made a small moaning noise, and Nyomen gestured to Bonnie to come inside the house. The women had made a small bed on the floor, and a neat pile of older sarongs had been placed beside her.

Bonnie washed her hands with the antiseptic, and offered it to the other women. Then she sat back a little and folded her hands. There was nothing she could do. She could see the baby moving under his mother’s loosened sarong so that was a good sign. It was time to wait.

By the time Harry returned they’d set up a little screen with another sarong and the elderly grandmother was also in the room.

He wished himself anywhere but there. Even back out on the street. Back with the tourists. His nerves crawled with anxiety—not a normal reaction for a damn doctor, he told himself, but this was how things went wrong. This was what he’d decided he’d never get involved in again. Had told himself he didn’t have to get involved with again because he could easily avoid becoming drawn in.

How Bonnie had stopped him from picking up Mardi and rushing her to the hospital he didn’t know. But then, if she was as close as Bonnie said, the idea of the baby being born halfway down the mountain was no better anyway.

The sudden unmistakable sound of a baby’s wail drifted from the room above him, and he looked up to hear the muted voices of happy women and even a laugh
from the grandmother. His shoulders sagged and he felt like dropping his head into his hands as well.

Relief flooded over him. Waves of emotion he hadn’t wanted. Overwhelming, and it was harrowing how close he’d been to inappropriate action. Maybe it was time to rationalise how much he needed to confront his issues.

He almost wished he hadn’t met this pesky midwife, but couldn’t quite convince himself that was true.

The relief inside expanded into unexpected pride—for clever Mardi, the unfazeable Bonnie, and the fact that he had trusted enough. Just.

The sound of running feet heralded the arrival of Mardi’s stunned husband, and the poor man kicked his shoes off and bolted up the stairs to greet his wife and new daughter. Harry smiled at the voluble thanks that were being heaped on Bonnie’s head. He let the sounds wash over him. He’d translate when they were on their own.

Finally Bonnie reappeared, a huge smile on her face, her eyes alight with the joy of the moment, and he could see how she revelled in her vocation. Lucky her. But he couldn’t help that darker sliver of reality that said she’d been lucky.

Some people weren’t that lucky.

Bonnie drifted out of the compound on a high, stunned again at the beauty and simplicity of childbirth, the pure blessing of a newborn baby and the luck of being a witness to it all.