For a second Gray he looked over his shoulder and watched her, he shook his head, annoyed with himself for not being able to break through that stubborn streak of hers and discuss what he had really driven out here to discuss. He thought about stalking her. Follow her to the shed. He sighed. Probably the best thing to do is to come back later. He marched to his ute.
He reached the ute, opened the driver door, and looked over his shoulder, only to see her double over. With one palm on the open door, one on the roof of the ute, he frowned. He hesitated. Now what was she doing? Studying a bit of mud? He watched her bob down so that she sat on her haunches. Yup, studying mud, he thought as he pulled the door wider and clambered in. Not sure what exactly he thought she was looking at, given it was the path to the shed, but obviously the mud had appeal, given she was still sitting on her haunch staring at the mud.
He pulled the door shut, shoved the key into the ignition, muttered to himself about stubborn woman and their inflexibility. Why bother to come out here, if she was not going to meet him halfway. They were not employer and employee, the relationship was going to be different, and he wanted her to see that. The ute started. He started to turn the steering wheel, sending the ute into a large arc which at one point had him facing the spot he'd seen her bob down. And he slammed on the brakes. He was out of the ute before the engine had even cut off. "Regan!" He bellowed as he ran toward her.
She was lying on the ground curled in a foetal position, her face contorted as a dry retch had her chest and torso tense in pain.
He raced toward her. "Regan!"
She'd hoped he'd driven away. She heard him start the ute and heard its wheels on the gravel. So she assumed he'd left. And given that putting her head between her knees was not working, she allowed her body to tip forward. She planted her palm on the ground, but was not expecting the pain in her guts. She thought that if she could just lie flat on the ground, the world would stop spinning in her mind, her gut would stop churning. She rolled onto her side, and curled. But the last thing she wanted, was him seeing her like this.
He was beside her in seconds. He bobbed down, concern etched in his face. "Regan, what the hell... are you ok?" He dropped to his knees beside her, was tempted to haul her into his lap. "What's up? What..."
"Go away." She muttered through a spasm and curled into a tighter ball. Shudders now accompanying her dizziness. Ripples and contractions through her stomach had her hugging her midriff.
He didn't take any notice of her order. "Regan! What the hell is going on here?" He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "You are..."
She attempted to straight out, "I am fine." She muttered. Not helped by the fact that she basically curled up again as another spasm worked through her system. It was bad enough that he was watching her, knowing she could not hide the pain.
He said with irony, "Yeah. I can see that." He shook his head, "You are curled up on your path. And obviously twinges are your new dance moves!" He said with exasperation.
"Go away." She mumbled.
"No. Your forehead is damp and your skin is bloody hot."
"Go away." She muttered again.
"For fucks sake, Regan, you are not well."
"Go away." She mumbled just before she dry retched again.
His arms snaked out, one curled around her shoulders and the other at her knees, he picked her up, getting to his feet with her in his arms as if she was feather light.
"What are you doing?" But she still curled her arm around his back and her other palm rested against his chest.
He all but ran back to the house, with her in his arms. More of a brisk walk as they covered the distance between the shed and the house."Taking you to the house." He shifted her slightly to juggle her into a more comfortable position for her and him. He was marching, blind really, as his eyes were on her and not on the ground they were covering. But he was surefooted. And he was more worried about her health. And this close, he could see she was flushed, clammy, and had a temperature. He cuddled her close and that allowed him to registered her tremors. And could see the impact on her face.
"I can walk! Put me down."
He ignored that order as he felt her on going tremors. He tightened the arm around her shoulder and hauled her close.
"Put me down." Regan ordered again, and closed her eyes as another spasm worked through her system, and clutched at his shirt.
A few seconds later they were in the house.
"I am in." She muttered through clenched teeth.
"I know."
"Go away." She told him.
He again ignored that order. He carried her through the kitchen. "Are you still in the same bedroom?" He asked, wondered if she had moved to the other wing.
It was her turn to ignore the order. Gray muttered, and continued down the hallway to her bedroom, assuming it was the bedroom she occupied when they were living there. He did not take any real notice of the state of her bedroom. Tidy but dated. Old furniture. Old furnishing. Gently he placed her on the bed. Of course she was pleased that she was on her bed, at least she could curl up on a soft platform, unlike the path to the shed. But it did not stop the tremors or the contractions. With his eyes on her, Gray reached for his mobile phone.
"What are you doing?" She asked on a wince as another contraction hit.
"Calling a doctor." He said firmly. Just a shame, that he did not have the doctor's number on his contact details on his phone. So he looked up the phone number on the website for the doctors.
She breathed softly. "I am a doctor." She shuddered and flinched.
Seeing her state, he was worried and angry. His eyes narrowed, and said with irony "Which is why I don't understand why you didn't stay in bed in the first place." He told her with a no nonsense look in his eyes.
As if she could afford to stay in bed, she thought. "Go away." She slid to sit on the side of the bed and tried tiredly to shuck off her wellingtons. He had basically put her on her bed with her wellingtons boots on her duvet. She sat on the edge, and when her feet touched the floor, her head started to spin again. Her palms and fingers clenched the mattress, hoping it would stable her. But the world was still spinning in her mind. She closed her eyes, and took a breath, only to deal with another spasm.
"Lay down." He ordered. And she ignored that. He growled, "You are being bloody stubborn and stupid!"
"Go away." She braced as she attempted to remove her wellington boots. She could not got to bed with her feet encased in rubber. The problem was it took effort. She waited for the spasm, let it wash through her then used her toes on one foot to shuck off her boot on her other foot. He rolled his eyes.
He finished keying in the numbers and waited. He watched her, saw her wince as yet another spasm worked through her. "What's wrong with you, do you know?" He waited for the receptionist to answer the phone. He bent at the knee and propped the phone between his chin and shoulder as he helped her to take off her boots.
"Yes. I told you, I am a doctor!" She told him with more firmness in her voice
"Stomach ache." She told him matter of fact. "Now go away."
With both boots off, she sighed in relief, "Thanks." She shuffled backwards.
He got to his feet. He straightened as if the person at the other end of the phone could see him. "Hello, yes, I wondered whether it would be possible to get a home visit." He paused. Regan glared at him, she was definitely not happy with him "Right now." He mulled quietly wondered whether he could just take her to the centre now. He paused again as he listened to the receptionist. "Yes, I think it is." He paused again as he listened to the receptionist, and anticipated the questions. He looked over at her, and replied to the receptionist. "Patient? Dr Calhoun." He could not help the smiled. "Yes. I said Dr Calhoun. She is the patient." He turned to ask her, "They want to know what's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong." She said with a hint of defensiveness in her voice.
He quirked a brow. "Nothing is wrong?" He questioned with sarcasm, and added, "Not sure that having contractions is normal." He shook his head, "Stop being so stubborn, Regan! They just want to know what is wrong with you? Normal protocol as you know for a call consultation."
"I just have a stomach ache." The boots lay askew beside the bed. She edged backwards, feeling her energy sap some more as she used what little she had to drag herself further up the bed.
"Did you hear that?" He nodded in response to something at the other end. "Ok, hang on." He passed the phone to her, "They want to talk to you."
She took the phone, after glaring at him. "Regan here." She closed her eyes and listened. "Yes." Tried to blank the contractions. "No." Pause. Gray's eyes narrowed as he watched her attempt to ward off the spasm. "Yes." Pause. She glared at Gray as another spasm hit, but she managed to say, " I will. Yes. I will" She huffed to mask the pain. "No." Pause. She sighed and he quirked an eyebrow. "Yes." Long pause. Gray was tempted to snatch away the phone to hear the whole conversation, not just Regan's response. "Ok. I will. Was going to do that anyway. Thanks. Bye." She handed him the phone. He frowned as he took the phone.