It was none of her business but the warmth she was feeling towards Jessie made her wish very much that Jessie, one day, would tell her what was causing the shadows. Fern had the feeling that in Jessie there could be a friend.
Quinn met them as they emerged into the corridor.
His eyes lit at the sight of Fern. Even for a man trained to cope with sleep deprivation there was weariness around Quinn’s eyes this morning.
Fern’s heart stirred at the sight of it. It was all she could do not to put her hand up to smooth away the lines of fatigue.
‘You should be in bed, Dr Gallagher,’ she said gently. ‘I can take over now.’
He smiled down at her, his smile a caress, and the wrenching sensation in her heart turned to something else entirely. Something like jelly.
‘Let’s get rid of your Sam and then we’ll think about bed.’ His smile deepened and Fern gasped. There was no mistaking the gleam of wickedness in those eyes.
‘Dr Gallagher…’ she whispered unsteadily.
‘Dr Rycroft!’ His voice was a parrot-like imitation of her shocked tone. He motioned to the door. ‘You’ll be wanting to see Sam before he goes. He’s awake-just-and he has the ward to himself. We let Frank go home this morning. He was whinging that a man couldn’t get any sleep in a place like this and I reckon if Frank’s well enough to whinge he’s well enough to go home. So you have privacy.’
‘Th-thank you.’ Fern walked uncertainly forward.
Quinn opened Sam’s door for her and let her pass.
‘Go and bid your love goodbye, Fern,’ he said softly. ‘Though I don’t think that’s really right, is it, Dr Rycroft? Go in and say goodbye to your friend.’
Sam was drifting in and out of sleep.
The nursing sister was sitting by the bed. Geraldine looked up and smiled as Fern walked in and then rose and left.
It was as though Quinn had given her orders to leave Sam and Fern alone.
‘Call me when you leave him,’ the nurse whispered, ‘and I’ll come back.’
Fern nodded.
She took the seat the nurse had just vacated, leaned over and touched Sam’s hand.
Sam’s eyes flicked open.
‘Fern…’
‘I’m here,’ she whispered. ‘You’re OK. The plane will be here soon to take you to Sydney-the plastic surgeons there can do a better cosmetic job than we can. You’ll need a skin graft to replace some of your torn skin.’
‘Where’s Lizzy…?’
Fern took a deep breath. ‘She’s gone home to pack. She says she’s coming with you.’
Sam’s eyes widened at that. ‘Lizzy…She wouldn’t do that…Would she? Leave the island?’
‘She won’t let you go alone.’ Fern took Sam’s big hand in hers. ‘Lizzy loves you, Sam. I don’t know what you’re going to do about it but there it is…’
Sam took a deep breath. He stirred, winced and closed his eyes. ‘I’m going to marry her,’ he said, and his voice, despite his injuries, was firm.
Silence. The room was warmed with the morning sun still streaming in the windows. Sam’s words drifted round and round like the end of a story.
A ‘happy ever after’ ending…
Strange. This conversation should be uncomfortable, at the very least. Sam was Fern’s fiancé and here he was, announcing that he’d changed his mind. Announcing that he’d marry another…
Fern had never felt uncomfortable with Sam, though.
He was her friend.
Not her love.
She only had room in her heart for one…
‘Don’t let Lizzy blackmail you into it,’ she teased lightly and Sam gripped her hand, opened his eyes and met her look.
‘I won’t let her do that. Fern, I’ve been thinking…’
‘What have you been thinking?’
‘Well…’ Sam’s voice died away as if gathering strength but his lawyer’s ability to argue a case won the day.
‘You and me…We’re fond of each other. Right?’
‘Right.’
‘But you’d never poison people on my behalf…or try to drown yourself…’
Fern’s lips twitched. ‘No,’ she agreed, her voice a trifle unsteady. ‘I’d never do that.’
‘I think I want that.’
Fern swallowed. She nodded wisely and fought for the right words. ‘You don’t…you don’t think you might find poisoning and drowning just…just a trifle unsettling?’
Despite her fight for control, Sam heard the laughter bubble through Fern’s words and the lawyer managed a smile in response.
‘Hell, Fern, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I do,’ he whispered. ‘But…but last night I nearly lost here. And I realised…I realised what I was losing…’
He broke off.
The door had opened behind them. There was a tiny whimper of sound and Sam’s gaze shifted to see who had just entered.
It was Lizzy. His love…
‘Lizzy, love…’ Sam whispered, acknowledging finally what Lizzy had always known, and Fern was forgotten.
Lizzy must have heard every word.
She’d come in looking defiant but now…now every trace of defiance on the girl’s face crumpled to nothing. With a sob the girl ran across the room and buried her face on the coverlet.
‘Oh, Sam…Oh, Sam…’
‘Don’t cry, Liz,’ Sam whispered, his hand releasing Fern to stroke Lizzy’s hair. ‘It’ll be right. I guess we have to sort things out after this-so we can stay together. I can come back to the island and practise law. Somehow…somehow being a big-shot city lawyer doesn’t seem such a good deal-after last night.’
‘I’ll live in the city with you,’ Lizzy sobbed. ‘I was crazy to say I wouldn’t. You don’t have to come home because of me.’
‘We’ll see,’ Sam whispered.
Fern smiled again. She could see what was in Sam’s mind. The havoc Lizzy Hurst could wreak in the city could be horrendous. Poisoning a whole island of people could be cast into insignificance.
‘I’ll leave you, then,’ she said, and neither of them heard.
She had no place here-between lovers.
‘Thank you, Fern,’ Sam whispered, as he finally realised she was leaving, but he had eyes only for his Lizzy.
‘So, how does it feel to be a jilted bride?’
Quinn was waiting for Fern in the corridor, his words sympathetic but his eyes still dangerous.
Lizzy had left the door open.
Quinn must have heard enough.
Fern smiled right back. Right at this minute being jilted didn’t seem all that bad. It was somehow as if a rather large weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Her world was very much the right way up this morning.
With Quinn smiling at her like that, miracles were possible.
Miracles were probable.
She laughed up into his taunting, laughterfilled eyes.
‘It’s mortifying,’ she said and made her voice low and mournful. ‘And the worst thing is, Dr Gallagher, that I’ve just realised I’m a born spinster.’
“A born”…’ Quinn folded his arms across his chest and his wicked eyes asked a million questions. ‘Why?’
‘Because Sam asked me if I’d poison people for him-or drown myself for love-and I’ve realised that I wouldn’t do that for any man. No one!’
‘Not even for me?’
The words caught her by surprise. Fern’s eyes flashed up to his, expecting more laughter, but the laughter was softened by something behind his eyes that was deadly serious.
Fern’s own laughter died.
‘Not…not even for you, Quinn Gallagher,’ she whispered, and her voice trembled.
‘Not even a little bit? Not even a dose of Epsom salts in the punch to win your love?’
He sounded so disappointed that Fern almost choked. The laughter bubbled again, unbidden.
She fought for gravity-for some sort of control of a situation that was reeling way out of control.
‘I thought you were going to bed,’ she said darkly.
‘I’ve told you.’ Quinn’s voice was mock innocent. ‘I’m getting rid of your fiance first. And then…’
And then…
Before she knew what he was about, Quinn stepped forward and caught her in his arms. She was ruthlessly kissed with a speed that left her gasping-that left her weak as butter in his hold-but was then released with equal speed.