Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor? (3 page)

‘Want to see your dinner?’ She watched him shift his body and reach into his pocket and then suddenly there was a blinding flash.

She rubbed her eyes. He laughed again. ‘Sorry. Should’ve warned you.’ His smile beamed in the night as her vision began to recover and he handed her his camera. ‘It looks like this.’

Bonnie’s meal was captured for posterity and illuminated clearly on the camera screen. ‘You’re really a do-now-think-later kinda guy, aren’t you?’ But she could see a long barbecued fish, brown and crunchy, and one
gruesome eye. She wished she hadn’t seen that but at least she wouldn’t accidentally eat it in the dark. She shuddered.

‘The less thinking the better,’ he said cryptically, then went on. ‘The ones in the shells are mussels, and despite the thought if you’re not a shellfish eater, they taste wonderful. King prawns, calamari on skewers, crab and lobster meat piled on the side. And the green salad.’

It was all recognisable now. Actually, quite a neat trick to take the photo, she acknowledged, at least to herself. ‘Obviously you’ve used this in the dark before.’

He tucked the camera away in his pocket. ‘Too many times on my own. I’m glad you came.’

‘So am I.’ She was. And feeling more relaxed. Bonnie didn’t think it was the beer, though maybe it had more of a kick than he was letting on, but the atmosphere here would make anyone feel good.

Smiling Balinese waiters, the muted wash of the waves just a few feet away, candles all around them and brighter lights in the distance. Every now and then a plane took off or landed at Ngurah Rai airport across the water and the stars had started to shine more brightly as the night deepened. ‘This is pretty cool. Thank you for bringing me.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Her coconut drink arrived and even in the dark it looked huge. ‘Do you want me to take a photo of that so you can see it?’

She thought of the brightness of the flash and the disruption of the mood. ‘I can guess. It’s not worth the eye pain.’ She picked it up and the milk inside sloshed. ‘I’ll never finish this.’

‘That’s why I only bought one. Drink what you fancy and leave the rest. I’ll finish it so you don’t feel guilty.’

There was something disturbing about the thought of him drinking from her straw, too easy to picture and not without sensory ramifications. She turned the conversation.

‘The stars are amazing.’

‘Bit too much light here to do them justice.’

‘I love stars but wish I knew more about them.’

‘I’m not much better,’ he said, and they both glanced up then down at each other and for some reason they both laughed. The beginnings of a dangerous rapport. They both sobered.

Bonnie broke the silence. ‘So what do you do while you’re over here?’ She took a sip and the strong flavour of coconut overlaid the beer.

He attacked his meal as if he wanted distance from that moment too. ‘Nothing.’

He paused as if waiting for her to say how terrible to drift between jobs, but she wasn’t going to.

For a short time,
nothing
would be great. And that pastime would be as far away from Jeremy as possible. Her ex didn’t know anything about cultivating stillness. The longer they were parted the better she was feeling, except she’d learned a very valuable lesson about people who lied.

‘So you don’t get bored?’ She took another bite and chewed while she waited. The fish melted in her mouth and the tang of lime made her sigh with bliss.

He put down his fork. ‘Not yet. I do a bit of diving up at Lovina, some surfing.’

She picked up the coconut again. This meal was a symphony of different flavours and she was glad she hadn’t chickened out. Surfing, diving, eating on beaches. Sounded idyllic. For a while. ‘Do you do anything constructive? What’s your profession? Your job when you’re not surfing?’

Anything worthwhile? His raised eyebrows noted the observation that lay unspoken between them, but still the question had popped out and mentally she shrugged. Well, she did want to know because surfing and scuba diving wasn’t a lifestyle, especially if he was trained to do something useful, or had done in the past.

She’d been devastated by her love life bombing out but she hadn’t given up her life to hide in a distant country. No. If she was honest, she’d hidden in work. Which was the reverse of what he’d done, she supposed.

He was silent for a few beats. ‘Sometimes I build things, work in the fields every now and then. And I’m studying yoga.’

The last thing she would have connected with him but then, he did occasionally give off restful vibes. ‘I can’t quite see you and yoga together.’ She thought about it some more. ‘So you’re going to be a yoga teacher? I guess both our professions are about health.’

‘No. I’m studying it for myself.’

She laughed. He amused her, he really did. ‘Selfish ‘R’ Us? Who will look after you if you don’t?’

‘That’s right.’ He sat back in his seat and smiled. If she wasn’t mistaken, she’d say he was relieved by her amusement.

She couldn’t imagine not having work to take her
mind off the rest. ‘So what about your parents? What do they think of you growing old on an island?’

‘They’re both dead.’

Oops. ‘I’m an orphan too. It sucks.’ She really didn’t want to talk about this and wasn’t sure why she was except she felt somehow responsible for the conversation. ‘My mum died when I was twelve. Never knew my father and my gran brought me up. She died three months ago. I nursed her at home.’
And my sleazy fiancé slept with his ex and stole all my money while I was busy.
But she was getting over that. Really.

‘Tough, but special. So you normally work as a midwife?’

‘Mostly. I trained in Darwin, did a little time in ICU, but mostly a midwife. I love working remote in short stints but you miss out on the births mostly that way.’

She speared another succulent piece of fish. ‘And you, before you came here?’

‘Different things. None of them useful.’ Slam. She felt the whoosh from the shutting door. Now she wished she’d shut her mouth. She kept it closed in case something else came out that she’d regret and ate another piece of fish and left him with the silence. He’d caused it.

Harry had a pretty good idea what she was thinking. Well, what could he say? She wasn’t getting the truth. Oh, did medicine, fell in love, lost wife and child because I was stupid, now have abdicated from world.

By the time she’d finished her fish he could see she was full. Not a big eater, he gathered. In fact, she seemed a little on the thin side.

When the waiter returned he shook his head at
the proffered menus. ‘I’m guessing you don’t need sweets.’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Any chance of a quick stroll along the beach before we leave?’

She opened her mouth to say no but he kept talking and successfully forestalled her. Another win to him. ‘Just to let the food settle. Only as far as the tables go and it’s in plain view of everyone.’

He could see she hated the thought of giving in to him again. Her independence amused him and only made him more determined to conquer her reserve. He wanted to win! Now how long since he’d felt that?

Bonnie didn’t know where this competitiveness had come from but probably she should listen to it as a warning signal. She was her own woman. Then her mouth said, ‘Maybe for a few minutes and then I must get back to my friends.’

‘Sure.’ He stood up and despite their initial conversation he helped pull out her chair. ‘It gets a little tricky in the sand when the chairs sink in a bit.’

Bonnie felt him beside her. Her arms did that hair-waving thing again and this time the shiver went right down to her toes. To break the mood she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Are you saying I’m so heavy I bogged my chair?’

His teeth flashed as he glanced at her figure. ‘No.’

He nodded at the waiter to say they’d be back and they took the few steps to the water’s edge and began walking along towards the airport in the distance. They didn’t speak but strangely it wasn’t as awkward as she’d thought it would be.

The waves lapped politely, no big chasers in the occasional wash up like happened at home, just gentle lapping that never threatened her light slides, or her concentration at maintaining a safe distance.

The sand crunched firmly beneath their feet and the stars overhead twinkled benignly down on them. She could feel her annoyance from his refusal to discuss his life recede like the water beside her and she let it go.

It didn’t matter. Really it didn’t. She didn’t know him. Probably wouldn’t see him again and it had been a very pleasant meal.

Then he ruined it. ‘Any chance of meeting up tomorrow?’

She fought back the overreaction she wanted to make, like a full-throated scream of Yes, and impressed herself by the way her answer slid out quite lightly. ‘No.’

‘The day after?’

She wanted a flirtation, not an affair. Already she was too aware of every facial expression, every shrug of those lovely shoulders and the strength in those powerful legs that walked beside her. Sensory overload. She glanced at him. ‘Thanks for dinner. Can we go back now?’

Harry felt her pull away, even though her body didn’t move. It was a subtle stiffening and leaning to increase the distance between them. Unmistakable. Well, he’d blown that. Not something he was used to doing but he was just out of practice. Funny how he could be smooth with someone he didn’t care how it went with and a bumbling idiot with someone he wanted to impress.

Now, why was he trying to impress her? He slanted a glance at Bonnie of the determined chin and wondered
why as they walked back to their table. He liked it that she was taller than most women, though she was a little frail. He could easily imagine being able to span her waist with his hands, and maybe he should insist on dessert to fatten her up.

She seemed too fragile to him. Maybe nursing her gran had really taken it out of her. He could feel the swell of empathy pulling bricks out of the walls he’d built over the last two years, snapping mortar and the solid pattern of layers like a berserk tradesman. Now, how had he left himself open to that?

His sensible side began a mental slurry of cement on the cracks and crumbles and hardened his heart. Then the words came easily.

‘I’ll pay the bill and take you home, then.’

I
N THE
early hours of the morning Harry lay on his side and gazed out over the beach. He watched the stars inch their way across the sky. He’d tried turning his back on them but he knew they were there. Laughing at him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d tossed and turned over a woman. Well, he could but he didn’t want to remember that disaster.

But Bonnie was different, softer, like a calm place to sit and enjoy situations and surroundings he’d forgotten how to enjoy. And that tinge of sadness around her sat like a mist he wanted to wave away. Problem was that voice in his head had burnt him before. He squeezed his pillow again and buried his ear into the packed softness of feathers. Softness was a pain.

Next morning, he found himself standing beside her breakfast table. Just in case she’d changed her mind. ‘Good morning, Bonnie.’

Bonnie shook her head. Obviously Harry didn’t understand no. Which for an intelligent man seemed a little bizarre.

She took a careful sip of her tea, savoured the honey—
Bali had lovely black tea—and ignored the little glow that wasn’t leaf-related. ‘Good morning, Harry.’

‘You must be Bonnie’s friends.’ He glanced at the girls as if to check their response to her fake name. Bonnie’s smile kicked. Now, that was gold.

‘May I join you?’ His open-necked shirt exposed a strong brown throat and the buttons strained as he leaned over the table. Her poor young friends nearly swallowed their spoons. Too much testosterone this early in the morning.

Sacha stuttered. ‘O-of course.’ With cheeks like fairy floss she practically offered him her own chair, then turned wondering eyes on Bonnie. ‘You said it was a one-off.’

It was a six-seater table. Bonnie made a note to herself to insist on a table that would only seat three next time. ‘He’s obviously slow on the uptake.’

Sacha waved him into a bamboo chair and he sat down. ‘I wondered if I could interest you ladies in a bike ride down Mt Agung. I have a friend who runs tours and he’s got a couple of places left this morning.’

‘Two or three?’ Bonnie asked sweetly. It was dare for him to be specific. He smiled sweetly at her.

‘Three or four.’

‘Even room for you?’ Bonnie sighed. Before he could answer, Jacinta dropped her shoulders and Sacha did too. ‘We’re out. We booked that cooking class thing today.’

Harry attempted to look disappointed. ‘And you?’

‘It really is Bonnie, you know.’ She smiled sweetly. Did she want to spend a whole day with this guy? Or would she spend it by herself, wishing she’d gone with him?

After the call last night this was her last full day and the bike ride sounded ideal. She’d see the countryside after all and she needed to break out of this cloud of apathy she’d been in for the last few months. He was certainly helping there.

It seemed unlikely he’d attempt to race her off in a pack of cyclists. And she had some say in it. ‘What time is this ride and how do I know it really exists?’

‘You do have a nastily suspicious mind.’ He produced a brochure and a mobile phone. ‘But I expected that. You could ring Wayan and ask him.’

She took the glossy pamphlet and turned it over in her hands. The number stood out plainly and she was very tempted to do it. He was daring her now and she couldn’t decide if he was real or fake. He’d be great at poker.

He looked suspiciously ready to go in that open-necked shirt that dared her to peek at the strong column of his throat but she wasn’t going to.

He wore different blue jeans and scuffed joggers that might have been expensive in their heyday, and that watch, which she’d decided was definitely not real. Like him.

There, she’d made a decision. If the watch was fake, he was fake. She’d buy one in the women’s version and this man would know the right vendor on the street. ‘Where’d you buy your watch?’

‘Geneva.’

She wrinkled her nose. There was no deception in the answer. She’d been wrong. Again. ‘What time is pick-up?’

‘Half an hour.’ He was rushing her. He liked to do
that but she’d lost the bet with herself so she had to go. For an internal argument it was pretty thin. It was just so darned hard to say no to someone who made her smile. At least on the inside.

The bus had seen better days but the grins of the tour guides were shiny new. Typically Balinese, they oozed warmth and fun and pleasure at the company of tourists and the chance to show off their culture and country. Something a lot of countries could learn from, Bonnie mused as she was helped into the bus.

Four couples made up the bus passengers when they started again—two young female schoolteachers from Portugal, two chefs from France, a fitness instructor and his wife from the States, and Harry and Bonnie from Australia.

Bonnie was jammed against the window, which in itself was a good thing and not only for the view. It was a bit like choosing a window seat on the plane. You could create your own space if you needed. But she could still feel the warmth from Harry’s jeans-clad leg against hers and that wasn’t going away unless she broke the safety glass.

Harry laughed and joked with the others around them about accents and travel mishaps, a different person from the man she’d seen yesterday at the pool. Aloof and cynical seemed to have stayed home today. So why’d he been so threatened yesterday? Interesting.

Bonnie found herself relaxing back with a little proprietorial smile that said she was here—with him—as the little bus ground up the mountain. Until she realised her sin and it slipped from her face.

Then she frowned. Crazy. This was holiday, short-term, transient. Even more transient than she’d anticipated. Enjoy the moment, enjoy the company and most of all enjoy Harry. She was on vacation, for goodness’ sake, and she’d soon be at the new job, wishing she had. This was safe.

Harry saw the moment Bonnie became a part of the group and suddenly the day seemed brighter. She smiled at him and for that moment the sadness he’d glimpsed in her eyes was gone. He felt his breath kick somewhere at the back of his throat and his chest expanded. He’d done that. He’d helped her feel better. And it felt good.

That was when he reminded himself to be careful.

He looked away from her profile, past the itching temptation to study the bones of her face and out the window towards the ancient volcano as it came into sight. Terraced rice fields skirted the mountains like layers on a brilliant green wedding cake and that thought made him shudder.

This wasn’t him. Connecting with women was so not on his programme. He’d been there and the pain was so great he wasn’t climbing that volcano so he could fall off again. He’d pulled himself away from all he knew, bolted home to Bali, the one place where he could drift and nobody would think it out of the ordinary. A place he could drown out the voice in his head that said he didn’t want this empty life but he wasn’t willing to risk more pain.

‘Is that a volcano?’ Bonnie turned towards him and her eyes were like the rice fields outside the window—iridescent with life.

He ran his hand down his face to clear any dumb
expression he might’ve been left with. ‘Yes, Mt Agung. We’ll be having morning tea at the restaurant above Mt Batur, at Kintamani—lots of old lava at the base of that one. Then we’ll pick up the bikes at a village and ride downhill until we get to the river.’ He shut his mouth. He was rambling.

‘So how many times have you done this?’

He shrugged. ‘A few.’ Too many. ‘Sometimes I help out when they’re short of supervising riders, and it’s always a great day.’ Brainless, time consuming, just what he wanted.

She tilted her head. ‘You said you were visiting. How long have you been here this time?’

‘On and off, nine months this time.’ She was studying him and he could feel his face freeze with the old barriers at giving anything away.

‘A whole pregnancy,’ she said, and he winced. Great timing. A good boot to the guts like he needed to stop the rot. Ironic.

He turned away and spoke to the Portuguese girl about surfing, blocking Bonnie out, and yet still he felt it when she withdrew her attention and looked back out the window. His breath eased out. The Portuguese girl batted her eyelashes at him but her interest didn’t faze him like Bonnie’s did. Funny, that.

Finally they made it to the first stop. He’d never noticed the trip taking so long before and he felt like shaking himself like a dog to get out of Bonnie’s aura. He’d been mad to ask her out today. Not just mad. Dangerously insane.

For Bonnie, the view from the restaurant overlooking
the volcano at Kintamani took her breath, and thankfully her mind, off the puzzle of the man next to her.

From where she stood overlooking the valley, because the restaurant walkway hung over the cliff, the view presented the huge lake and black scarring of the lava across the valley floor. Great gaping inverted cones up the side of Mt Batur showed the force of the volcanic activity.

‘When was the last eruption?’ She asked the question without looking at him. She didn’t have to turn to know he was right there. Her sensory receptors had warned her.

‘Nineteen ninety-four. One of the earlier ones swallowed the temple at Kintamani village. The western slopes are closed at the moment. The seismological institute thinks there’s risk of further eruptions. Pity. It’s a great walk to the rim for sunrise.’

Bonnie looked through the window into the restaurant at the rice and crêpes waiting, very strange morning tea on offer, and glanced at the view again. ‘What’s the lava like up close?

‘Hard and black. I rode across the whole field on a motorbike years ago and it was like jagged corrugated iron. The locals use it for building and you can see the areas where the lava’s been quarried.’

As a guide he was knowledgeable, though distracting from the view, enthusiastic about local history, just not good at being consistently relaxing, and she couldn’t see much of the yoga student this morning.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t his fault because half an hour later, when she followed the others back to the bus and climbed in, it was Harry’s leg alongside hers that
she was waiting for. In fact, she could feel little waves of anticipation building as she sat down.

Disappointingly, this time they didn’t touch. Interesting and a little unacceptable, and she wasn’t quite sure how he managed it. As an experiment she allowed her knee to accidentally knock against his while she looked out the window and there was no doubt he shifted further away.

Definite reversal of the forces of attraction. She’d blotted her copybook somehow. Maybe it was the crack about pregnancy.

On her recent history of foot-in-mouth moments he’d probably lost a car full of children too. She sighed and then shrugged. This was why she didn’t get involved with men. Too complicated and distracting. It was a beautiful day and she was going to enjoy it if it killed her. She smiled to herself. Or him.

Wayan, their guide, had spent the last five minutes of travel explaining about luwak coffee and the main export for the plantation they were about to visit, but Bonnie had faded out.

So when the bus trundled into a dusty car park alongside other decrepit buses all shaded by overhanging trees and vines, she wondered if this was where the bike ride started.

She was thinking about the last man she’d fallen for and how that whole fiasco had poisoned her life. How, foolishly, she’d thought they’d planned the whole wedding thing, the first two years of saving, agreed on children, she’d put her savings with his for the deposit on their dream home.

She’d come home shattered from nursing her gran,
vaguely aware she hadn’t paid much attention to him for the last hard few weeks, and when she had come back for the comfort he’d promised—he’d been gone, along with her money. Not that she’d cared about that at that point.

‘And it’s the most expensive coffee in the world.’

Well, she couldn’t afford that. Bonnie zoned in again and followed Wayan through the overhanging forest, listening as he identified coffee in various stages, tree types and fruit, aware of Harry at her shoulder not saying anything.

Finally they came to the cage where the luwak slept, incarcerated. Bonnie looked at Harry and whispered, ‘What the heck is a luwak?’ Harry gestured to Wayan and smiled and she tried to catch up.

‘We leave them for one day in the cage,’ Wayan told them, ‘and then set them free again. It is only so you can see the actual animal. Asian palm civets—also known as luwaks here—normally sleep and hide at the time people visit the plantation.’

They all stared into the dark cage and tried to see the small furry animal, which looked a little like a cat-faced possum or smaller mongoose.

She whispered to Harry, ‘I don’t get it. How does it make coffee?’

He tilted his head and studied her genuine bafflement. A slow smile curved his lips. ‘You weren’t listening.’

‘I might have missed a bit.’ She shrugged.

Harry tilted his head and she could feel his scrutiny. Could feel the heat in her cheeks at his amusement. He was laughing at her—not with her—and she didn’t like it.

‘He’s been talking about it for the last ten minutes.’

‘So?’ She held out her hands, frustrated by his teasing. ‘Tell me now.’

Harry grinned. ‘Luwaks are an alternative to conventional coffee processing. They process the beans internally.’ He grinned again as she shrugged and shook her head, obviously not getting it. ‘You don’t pick the beans off the trees—you follow the luwaks around with a shovel.’

‘They poo it?’ Bonnie blinked. ‘You’re kidding me?’

Harry laughed out loud and suddenly the rapport between them was back in full force. ‘I kid you not.’

He patted her shoulder. ‘You get to try some soon. Luwaks only choose to eat the very best coffee beans, and they have a great internal processing unit that still leaves the coffee bean whole when they’re.’ he paused and grinned again ‘… finished with it.’

Bonnie shook her head. ‘No way.’ When had they discussed this? Had Wayan said that in the bus? How would this be the most expensive coffee in the world?

‘They wash the beans,’ Harry said blandly, but she could see the unholy amusement in his eyes. Just looking at him made her smile and boosted her fragile self-esteem that Jeremy had injured so badly. That was the point when she should have run away.