Marissa was stunned. She didn’t know whether to be hurt or angry. After all the effort she’d gone through to find him, she couldn’t believe he wouldn’t give her more time than that. For a moment, Marissa sat in her car watching the dust from the Land-Rover billow in the air. Then, hastily, she started the Ford Falcon, put it in gear, and gave chase.

By the time Marissa arrived at the Wilmington Station, she was covered with dust. The entire drive she’d been enveloped in the wake of the Land-Rover. Even her mouth felt gritty.

Tristan had already gotten out of the Land-Rover. He was heading up the long walkway toward a small house, medical bag in hand. Marissa ran to catch up to him. Falling in step alongside him, she tried to catch his eye. She had to take five steps to keep up with his every three.

“You have to talk with me,” she said when it became clear he intended to ignore her. “It’s very important.”

Tristan stopped short. “I’m not interested in talking with you,” he said. “Besides, I’m busy. I’ve got patients to see, including a very sick little girl, and I hate pediatrics.”

Marissa brushed her dusty hair from her forehead and squinted up at Tristan. Even though his eyes were deeply set, she could now see they were blue. “I’m a pediatrician,” she said. “Maybe I could help.”

Tristan studied her face as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “A pediatrician, eh?” he said. “That’s mighty convenient.” His eyes strayed to the front door of the house. When he looked back at Marissa, he said: “I can’t turn that down, not with what I know about pediatrics.”

The patient turned out to be an eight-month-old baby girl who was acutely ill. She had a high fever, a cough, and a runny nose. The child was crying when Marissa and Tristan entered her room.

Marissa examined the infant while Tristan and the anxious mother watched. After a few minutes, Marissa straightened up and said: “It’s measles, without doubt.”

“How can you tell?” Tristan asked.

Marissa showed him the small white spots inside the infant’s mouth, the reddened eyes, and the faint rash just beginning to appear on the forehead.

“What should we do?” he asked.

“Just get the fever down,” Marissa said. “But if complications occur, the child should be hospitalized. Is that possible?”

“Certainly,” Tristan said. “We can airlift her to Charleville, or even Brisbane if necessary.”

For the next few minutes Marissa discussed the situation with the mother, describing the telltale signs of trouble. Then they discussed where the child could have picked up the virus. It turned out that two weeks previously, the family had visited relatives in Longreach, where there had been a sick child.