Healed By The Midwife′s Kiss: Healed by the Midwife′s Kiss
Healed By The Midwife's Kiss: Healed by the Midwife's Kiss
Fiona McArthur
Jennifer Taylor
About the Authors (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
FIONA MCARTHUR is an Australian midwife who lives in the country and loves to dream. Writing Medical Romance gives Fiona the scope to write about all the wonderful aspects of romance, adventure, medicine and the midwifery she feels so passionate about. When she’s not catching babies, Fiona is with her husband, Ian, off to meet new people, see new places and have wonderful adventures. Drop in and say hi at Fiona’s website: Fionamcarthurauthor.com (http://www.Fionamcarthurauthor.com).
JENNIFER TAYLOR has written for several different Mills & Boon series, but it wasn’t until she ‘discovered’ Medical Romances that she found her true niche. Jennifer loves the blend of modern romance and exciting medical drama. Widowed, she divides her time between homes in Lancashire and the Lake District. Her hobbies include reading, walking, travelling and spending time with her two gorgeous grandchildren.
Also By Fiona McArthur
Gold Coast Angels: Two Tiny Heartbeats
Christmas with Her Ex
Christmas in Lyrebird Lake miniseries
Midwife’s Christmas Proposal
Midwife’s Mistletoe Baby
The Midwives of Lighthouse Bay miniseries
A Month to Marry the Midwife
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss
Also By Jennifer Taylor
One More Night with Her Desert Prince…
Best Friend to Perfect Bride
Miracle Under the Mistletoe
The Greek Doctor’s Secret Son
Reawakened by the Surgeon’s Touch
The Larches Practice miniseries
The Boss Who Stole Her Heart
Bride for the Single Dad
Reunited by Their Baby
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss
Fiona McArthur
Reunited by Their Baby
Jennifer Taylor
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09571-6
HEALED BY THE MIDWIFE’S KISS & REUNITED BY THEIR BABY
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss © 2018 Fiona McArthur Reunited by Their Baby © 2018 Jennifer Taylor
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#uc5d76c04-3f79-5248-a036-f72811d8962c)
About the Authors (#u019aa339-a241-53c6-a8d4-d3dcb11d1976)
Booklist (#u4704dd4d-03d8-5792-be48-9bed07139cb1)
Title Page (#ua0c81620-edf2-5de9-989d-5472e60d513b)
Copyright (#u122354dc-8f53-5f9d-87e0-d7d802b47797)
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss (#ud0c28e64-5c85-539f-9344-55f6b9bba0d4)
Back Cover Text (#u173b439c-4112-532d-9d73-22cb2ae1ffe9)
Dedication (#uf15aac48-3418-5375-8e84-5cd782d8e963)
PROLOGUE (#ufdaf4a75-0cc7-5b7d-8f59-83be486684de)
CHAPTER ONE (#u0a25e00c-ddf3-5620-ba06-54b4c32ac890)
CHAPTER TWO (#u3d1b7ee8-89c1-5d1e-a8e8-845a4a5d90d2)
CHAPTER THREE (#u37ed0771-8840-5e5b-b8fb-8fde9c177abb)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2b9821f8-5106-5828-a319-93656279e7ea)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u978f2b77-65e9-515b-9b90-f0ef2bab4890)
CHAPTER SIX (#uac885911-83f1-56c4-88b3-35f24ed6ba2c)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u391291ca-2bdf-5258-bb70-2e188d926c09)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ude90d160-db51-56cb-91a8-17369c04278c)
CHAPTER NINE (#u0f6060c9-1e3b-5f47-a98c-2fe3e2bd3dee)
CHAPTER TEN (#u7d75711e-6559-56ba-8fc0-68650bfa0756)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Reunited by Their Baby (#litres_trial_promo)
Back Cover Text (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Fiona McArthur
Finn can’t imagine loving anyone again...
But could one woman change that forever?
After Dr. Finn Foley’s wife abandoned him and their adorable baby daughter, he threw himself into being a father. But when he meets a kindred spirit in widowed midwife Catrina Thomas, he can’t resist getting to know her better. One sizzling kiss later, the happiness Finn has been searching for finally seems within his grasp...if only he’s willing to claim it!
Dedicated to Finn, author Kelly Hunter’s legend of a four-legged friend, who went to doggy heaven while I was writing this book.
It just seemed right to say there are Finn heroes everywhere.
Vale Finn.
PROLOGUE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
AT SIX A.M. on a Thursday, Lighthouse Bay’s maternity ward held its breath. Midwife Catrina Thomas leaned forward and rubbed the newborn firmly with a warmed towel. The limp infant flexed and wriggled his purple limbs and finally took a gasping indignant lungful.
The baby curled his hands into fists as his now tense body suffused with pink. ‘Yours now, Craig. Take him.’ She gestured to the nervous dad beside her and mimed what to do as she encouraged Craig’s big callused hands to gently lift the precious bundle. One huge splashing silver tear dropped to the sheet from his stubbled cheek as he placed his new son on his wife’s warm bare stomach.
Craig released a strangled sob and his wife, leaning back on the bed in relief, half laughed in triumph, then closed her hands over her child and her husband’s hands and pulled both upwards to lie between her breasts.
For Catrina, it was this moment. This snapshot in time she identified as her driver, the reason she felt she could be a midwife for ever—this and every other birth moment that had come before. It gave her piercing joy when she’d thought she’d lost all gladness, and it gave her bittersweet regret for the dreams she’d lost. But mostly, definitely, it gave her joy.
An hour later Catrina hugged her boss awkwardly, because Ellie’s big pregnant belly bulged in the way as they came together, but no less enthusiastically because she would miss seeing her friend in the morning before she finished her shift. ‘I can’t believe it’s your last day.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Or my last night shift tomorrow.’
‘Neither can I.’ Ellie’s brilliant smile lit the room even more than the sunlight streaming in through the maternity ward windows.
Trina marvelled at the pure happiness that radiated from a woman who had blossomed, and not just in belly size but in every way in just one year of marriage. Another reason Trina needed to change her life and move on. She wanted what Ellie had.
A family and a life outside work. She would have the latter next week when she took on Ellie’s job as Midwifery Unit Manager for Ellie’s year of maternity leave.
She’d have daylight hours to see the world and evenings to think about going out for dinner with the not infrequent men who had asked her. The excuse of night shift would be taken out of her grasp. Which was a good thing. She’d hidden for two years and the time to be brave had arrived.
She stepped back from Ellie, picked up her bag and blew her a kiss. ‘Happy last day. I’ll see you at your lunch tomorrow.’ Then she lifted her chin and stepped out of the door into the cool morning.
The tangy morning breeze promised a shower later, and pattering rain on the roof on a cool day made diving into bed in the daylight hours oh, so much more attractive than the usual sunny weather of Lighthouse Bay. Summer turning to autumn was her favourite time of year. Trina turned her face into the salty spray from the sea as she walked down towards the beach.
She slept better if she walked before going up the hill to her croft cottage, even if just a quick dash along the breakwall path that ran at right angles to the beach.
Especially after a birth. Her teeth clenched as she sucked in the salty air and tried not to dwell on the resting mother lying snug and content in the ward with her brand-new pink-faced baby.
Trina looked ahead to the curved crescent of the beach as she swung down the path from the hospital. The sapphire blue of the ocean stretching out to the horizon where the water met the sky, her favourite contemplation, and, closer, the rolling waves crashing and turning into fur-like foam edges that raced across the footprint-free sand to sink in and disappear.
Every day the small creek flowing into the ocean changed, the sandbars shifting and melding with the tides. The granite boulders like big seals set into the creek bed, lying lazily and oblivious to the shifting sand around them. Like life, Trina thought whimsically. You could fight against life until you realised that the past was gone and you needed to wait to see what the next tide brought. If only you could let go.
Ahead she saw that solitary dad. The one with his little girl in the backpack, striding along the beach with those long powerful strides as he covered the distance from headland to headland. Just like he had every morning she’d walked for the last four weeks. A tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man with a swift stride.
Sometimes the two were draped in raincoats, sometimes his daughter wore a cheery little hat with pom-poms. Sometimes, like today, they both wore beanies and a scarf.
Trina shivered. She could have done with a scarf. When she was tired it was easy to feel the cold. It would be good to move to day shifts after almost two bleak years on nights, but falling into bed exhausted in the daytime had been preferable to the dread of lying lonely and alone in the small dark hours.
She focused on the couple coming towards her. The little girl must have been around twelve months old, and seemed to be always gurgling with laughter, her crinkled eyes, waving fists and gap-toothed smile a delight to start the day with. The father, on the other hand, smiled with his mouth only when he barely lifted his hand but his storm-blue eyes glittered distant and broken beneath the dark brows. Trina didn’t need to soak in anyone else’s grief.
They all guessed about his story because, for once, nobody had gleaned any information and shared it with the inhabitants of Lighthouse Bay.
They drew closer and passed. ‘Morning.’ Trina inclined her head and waved at the little girl who, delightfully, waved back with a toothy chuckle.
‘Morning,’ the father said and lifted the corner of his lips before he passed.
And that was that for another day. Trina guessed she knew exactly how he felt. But she was changing.
CHAPTER ONE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
AT SEVEN-THIRTY A.M. on the golden sands of Lighthouse Bay Beach Finlay Foley grimaced at the girl as she went past. Always in the purple scrubs so he knew she was one of the midwives from the hospital. A midwife. Last person he wanted to talk to.
It had been a midwife, one who put her face close to his and stared at him suspiciously, who told him his wife had left their baby and him behind, and ran away.
But the dark-haired girl with golden glints in her hair never invaded his space. She exuded a gentle warmth and empathy that had begun to brush over him lightly like a consistent warm beam of sunlight through leaves. Or like that soft shaft of light that reached into a corner of his cottage from the lighthouse on the cliff by some bizarre refraction. And always that feather-stroke of compassion without pity in her brown-eyed glance that thawed his frozen soul a little more each day when they passed.
She always smiled and so did he. But neither of them stopped. Thank goodness.
Piper gurgled behind his ear and he tilted his head to catch her words. ‘Did you say something, Piper?’
‘Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum.’
Finn felt the tightness crunch his sternum as if someone had grabbed his shirt and dug their nails into his chest. Guilt. Because he hadn’t found her. He closed his eyes for a second. Nothing should be this hard. ‘Try Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,’ he said past the tightness in his throat.
Obediently Piper chanted in her musical little voice, ‘Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.’
‘Clever girl.’ His mouth lifted this time and he felt a brief piercing of warmth from another beam of light in his cave-like existence.
Which was why he’d moved here. To make himself shift into the light. For Piper. And it did seem to be working. Something about this place, this haven of ocean and sand and cliffs and smiling people like the morning midwife soothed his ragged nerves and restored his faith in finding a way into the future.
A future he needed to create for Piper. Always the jolliest baby, now giggling toddler and all-round ray of puppy-like delight, Piper had kept him sane mainly because he had to greet each day to meet her needs.
His sister had said Piper had begun to look sad. Suspected she wasn’t happy in the busy day care. Didn’t see enough of her dad when he worked long hours. And he’d lifted his head and seen what his sister had seen.
Piper had been clingy. Harder to leave when he dropped her off at the busy centre. Drooping as he dressed her for ‘school’ in the morning. Quiet when he picked her up ten hours later.
Of course he needed to get a life and smile for his daughter. So he’d listened when his sister suggested he take a break from the paediatric practice where he’d continued as if on autopilot. Maybe escape to a place one of her friends had visited recently, where he knew no one, and heal for a week or two, or even a month for his daughter’s sake. Maybe go back part-time for a while and spend more time with Piper. So he’d come. Here. To Lighthouse Bay.
Even on the first day it had felt right, just a glimmer of a breakthrough in the darkness, and he’d known it had been a good move.
The first morning in the guesthouse, when he’d walked the beach with Piper on his back, he’d felt a stirring of the peace he had found so elusive in his empty, echoing, accusing house. Saw the girl with the smile. Said, ‘Good morning.’
After a few days he’d rented a cottage just above the beach for a week to avoid the other boisterous guests—happy families and young lovers he didn’t need to talk to at breakfast—and moved to a place more private and offering solitude, but the inactivity of a rented house had been the exact opposite to what he needed.
Serendipitously, the cottage next door to that had come up for sale—Would suit handyman—which he’d never been. He was not even close to handy. Impulsively, after he’d discussed it with Piper, who had smiled and nodded and gurgled away his lack of handyman skills with great enthusiasm, he’d bought it. Then and there. The bonus of vacant possession meant an immediate move in even before the papers were signed.
He had a holiday house at the very least and a home if he never moved back to his old life. Radical stuff for a single parent, escaped paediatrician, failed husband, and one who had been used to the conveniences of a large town.
The first part of the one big room he’d clumsily beautified was Piper’s corner and she didn’t mind the smudges here and there and the chaos of spackle and paint tins and drip sheets and brushes.
Finally, he’d stood back with his daughter in his arms and considered he might survive the next week and maybe even the one after that. The first truly positive achievement he’d accomplished since Clancy left.
Clancy left.
How many times had he tried to grasp that fact? His wife of less than a year had walked away. Run, really. Left him, left her day-old daughter, and disappeared. With another man, if the private investigator had been correct. But still a missing person. Someone who in almost twelve months had never turned up in a hospital, or a morgue, or on her credit card. He had even had the PI check if she was working somewhere but that answer had come back as a no. And his sister, who had introduced them, couldn’t find her either.
Because of the note she’d given the midwives, the police had only been mildly interested. Hence the PI.
Look after Piper. She’s yours. Don’t try to find me. I’m never coming back.
That was what the note had said. The gossip had been less direct. He suspected what the questions had been. Imagined what the midwives had thought. Why did his wife leave him? What did he do to her? It must have been bad if she left her baby behind...
The ones who knew him well shook their heads and said, She’d liked her freedom too much, that one.
At first he’d been in deep shock. Then denial. She’d come back. A moment’s madness. She’d done it before. Left for days. With the reality of a demanding newborn and his worry making it hard for him to sleep at all, his work had suffered. But his largest concern had been the spectre of Clancy with an undiagnosed postnatal depression. Or, worse, the peril of a postnatal psychosis. What other reason could she have for leaving so suddenly so soon after the birth?
Hence he’d paid the private investigator, because there were no forensic leads—the police were inundated with more important affairs than flighty wives. But still no word. All he could do was pray she was safe, at least.
So life had gone on. One painful questioning new morning after another. Day after day with no relief. He hadn’t been able to do his job as well as he should have and he’d needed a break from it all.
Buying the cottage had been a good move. Piper stood and cheered him on in her cot when he was doing something tricky, something that didn’t need to have a lively little octopus climb all over him while he did it, and she waved her fists and gurgled and encouraged him as he learnt to be a painter. Or a carpenter. Or a tiler.
Or a cook. Or a cleaner. Or a dad.
He was doing okay.
He threw a last look out over the beach towards the grey sea and turned for home. ‘That’s our walk done for this morning, chicken. Let’s go in and have breakfast. Then you can have a sleep and Daddy will grout those tiles in the shower so we can stop having bird baths in the sink.’
Piper loved the shower. Finn did too. When he held her soft, squirming satin baby skin against his chest, the water making her belly laugh as she ducked her head in and out of the stream always made him smile. Sometimes even made him laugh.
So he’d spent extra time on the shower. Adding tiles with animals, starfish, moon shapes and flowers, things they could talk about and keep it a happy place for Piper. And he’d made a square-tiled base with a plug. Soon she could have a little bath. One she could splash in even though it was only the size of the shower.
Doing things for Piper kept him sane. He didn’t need the psychologist his sister said he did, or the medication his brother-in-law recommended. Just until he’d climbed out of the hole he’d dug himself to hide in, he would stay here. In Lighthouse Bay. Where nobody pointed or pitied him and every corner didn’t hold a memory that scraped like fingernails on the chalkboard of his heavy heart.
Except that around the next corner his heart froze for a millisecond to see the morning midwife crouched on the path in front of him.
He quickened his pace. ‘Are you okay?’
She turned to look up at him, cradling something brightly coloured against her chest, and with the shift of her shoulders he saw the bird cupped in her hands. ‘She flew into that window and knocked herself out.’
The lorikeet, blue-headed with a red and yellow chest, lay limp with lime-green wings folded back in her hands. A most flaccid bird.
Still, the red beak and chest shuddered gently so it wasn’t dead. ‘How do you know it’s a girl?’ He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. But he’d actually thought it was her that had been hurt and relief had made him stupid.
She must have thought he was stupid too. ‘I didn’t actually lift her legs and look. Not really of major importance, is it?’
Just a little bit of impatience and, surprisingly, it was good to be at the receiving end of a bit of healthy sarcasm. So much better than unending sympathy.
He held up his hands in surrender and Piper’s voice floated over both of them from his back. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad!’
The girl sucked in her breath and he could see her swan-like neck was tinged with pink. ‘Sorry. Night duty ill temper.’
‘My bad. All mine. Stupid thing to say. Can you stand up? It’s tricky to crouch down with Piper on my back. Let’s have a look at her.’
The morning midwife rose fluidly, calves of steel obviously; even he was impressed with her grace—must be all those uphill walks she did. ‘She’s not fluttering her wings,’ she said, empathy lacing a voice that, had it not been agitated, would have soothed the bird. He shook himself. She was just being a typical midwife. That was how most of them had spoken to him when Clancy had disappeared.
‘Still breathing.’ He stroked the soft feathers as the bird lay in her small hands. ‘She’s limp, but I think if you put her in a box for a couple of hours in the dark, she’ll rouse when she’s had a sleep to get over the shock.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I do. She’s not bleeding. Just cover the box with a light cloth so she can let you know she can fly away when she’s ready.’
‘Do I have to put food or water in there?’
‘Not food. A little water as long as she doesn’t fall into it and drown.’ He grimaced at another stupid comment.
She grinned at him and suddenly the day was much brighter than it had been. ‘Are you a vet?’
‘No.’
‘Just a bird wrangler?’
She was a stunner. He stepped back. ‘One of my many talents. I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Bye.’
She looked at him oddly. Not surprising. He was odd. He walked on up the hill.
Her voice followed him. ‘Bye, Piper.’ He heard Piper chuckle.
CHAPTER TWO (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA FINISHED HER night shift at seven a.m. on Friday and picked up her mini-tote to sling it on her shoulder. Her last night done, except for emergencies, and she did a little skip as she came out of the door. At first, she’d been reluctant to take the night shift to day shift change that Ellie had offered her because change could be scary, but it had started the whole paradigm inversion that her life had needed. Look out daylight. Here she comes.
Yes. She’d come a long way in almost two years since Ed had died.
Not just because on Monday morning she’d return as acting Midwifery Unit Manager, an unexpected positive career move for Trina at Lighthouse Bay Maternity.
But things had changed.
Her grief stayed internal, or only rarely escaped under her pillow when she was alone in her croft on the cliff.
And since Ellie’s wedding last year she’d begun to think that maybe, some time in the future, she too could look at being friends with a man. If the right one came along.
Not a relationship yet. That idea had been so terrifying, almost like PTSD—the fear of imagining what if history repeated itself; what if that immense pain of loss and grief hit her again? What then?
She’d been catatonic with that thought and to divert herself she’d begun to think of all the other things that terrified her. She’d decided to strengthen her Be Brave muscle.
Last week she’d had her first scuba lesson. Something that had fascinated but petrified her since she’d watched the movie Finding Nemo with the daughter of a friend. And in the sparkling cove around the corner from Lighthouse Bay the kindly instructor had been so reassuring, so patient, well... Maybe she’d go back on Saturday for another lesson.
And when she’d mastered that she was going out on a day of deep-sea fishing. The captain’s wife had not long delivered a late-in-life baby and Trina had been the midwife. Even though he’d fainted again, he’d promised her a day of deep-sea fishing when he felt better. She’d bought seasickness bands and stored them in her drawer just in case.
She wasn’t sure about the parachuting. The girls at work had all joined the idea factory and brochures and social media tags of extreme sports and adventure holidays appeared like magic in her pigeonhole and on her private page. Parachuting? She didn’t think so but she’d worry about that later.
Her aim to do one challenge a month seemed possible to allay the fear that she was relying on work to be her whole world. Though not too adventurous—she didn’t want to kill herself. Not now.
Her friends were cheering. Thinking of the midwives of Lighthouse Bay...well, that made her whole world warm into a rosy glow. A fiercely loyal flotsam of women tossed here by the fickle cruelty of life, forging into a circle of hands supporting birthing women and each other. All acutely aware of how fortunate they were to have found the magic of the bay.
There was something healing about that crescent of sand that led to the cliffs.
A mystical benevolence about the soaring white lighthouse on the tallest point that looked benignly over the tiny hamlet of coloured houses and shone reassuring light.
And the pretty pastel abodes like a quaint European seaside town were a delight, a new trend that had taken off with the gentle crayon façades dipping in colour like playful toes into the sea.
Crazy coloured houses, and if she could do all those crazy-coloured feats of bravery then just maybe she could be brave enough to begin a real conversation with a man. Like yesterday. She’d almost forgotten the handsome dad was a man when she’d snapped at him. They’d almost had a whole conversation. She wouldn’t mind another one so he didn’t think she was a short-tempered shrew but she had been concerned about the bird. The one that had flown away two hours later, just like he said it would.
If she could talk to a man she could try again to go out with one. At least once. She’d been turning them down for six months now. None of them had been Ed.
Now there were more midwives around to lessen the on-call restrictions. Four new midwives had come on board to swell their ranks with the shift to a midwife-led unit. They still had old Dr Southwell in the hospital for non-maternity patients and maternity emergencies, but all the midwives had moved to four days of ten-hour shifts and caring for a caseload of women, so suddenly there was more time for life with an extra day free and people to cover you if needed. And she’d scored the admin side Monday to Thursday, daylight hours, for a year. Starting Monday. Imagine.
So she’d better get out there and grab that exciting life before it drifted past in a haze of regrets. She lifted her head and sucked in a pure lungful of gorgeous sea air.
Without realising it her feet had followed the well-beaten path down to the beach and just as she turned to start her morning breakwall walk she saw the dad and his little girl come up off the beach.
He looked happier today. Nice. It made her smile warmer. ‘Beautiful morning.’
He looked startled for a minute. ‘Yes, it is.’ Almost as if he was surprised. ‘Good morning—how is your bird?’
‘Flew away two hours later. Didn’t look any worse for wear.’
He gave her the first real smile she’d seen. ‘That’s good.’
Then he was past. Trina turned her head to glance back and the little fair-haired girl waved.
Trina smiled and yawned. She should go to bed and get a couple of hours’ sleep before Ellie’s farewell lunch. Just a quick walk.
CHAPTER THREE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
THE EARLY-MORNING BREEZE off the ocean seemed cooler. The water had taken till now to shine like a jewel. She’d been late this morning. Finn had waited a minute, hoping she wouldn’t see him do it, and strangely the minute seemed to take for ever, then he’d looked back. He’d been thinking of her last night. Wondering if she were sad about a dead bird or happy when it flew away.
He thought back to her response. Now that was a smile. He could see it in his retina like a glance at the sun. Warm and glowing. Saw her walking quite a way in the distance—she’d moved fast. He’d noticed that before, that her pace ran to brisk rather than dawdling. Nurses often did walk briskly. Couldn’t seem to slow themselves enough to meander even on a seaside walk. He tore his eyes away.
He’d done the breakwall walk she did a couple of times when he’d first come here but he liked the effort of walking through the sand with Piper on his back. If nothing else he’d become fit and tanned and physically healthier here in a month. And Piper too had sun-kissed limbs and sparkling eyes that exuded health.
His sister would be pleased when she came today. His first visitor. He shied away from that intrusion into his safe world and thought again of the young midwife. Maybe not so young because he’d seen the signs of loss and life in her big coffee eyes—even in those brief glances they’d shot at each other. For the first time he wondered if other people had suffered as much as he had? Well, that at least seemed a positive sign that he could reconnect with his inherent compassion that he’d seemed to have lost.
The thought made him wonder what it would be like to talk to someone who could actually begin to understand his hell, and then called himself crazy for making up a past about someone he didn’t know. Poor woman probably had never had a sad day in her life. But something told him otherwise.
* * *
Just before one p.m. his sister stepped out of her red convertible and through his front gate. ‘It’s beautiful, Finn. I can’t believe you’ve done all this yourself!’ Her perfectly pencilled brows were raised as she gazed at the pale pink external walls of the house and the rose-red door.
He’d been a little surprised himself. And the front path bordered by pansies and baby’s breath looked as if it belonged to some older lady with a green thumb—not a guilt-deranged paediatrician running from life.
She rocked her head slowly. He’d expected disbelief but not this patent incredulity. He felt strangely offended. ‘I didn’t even know you like to garden!’
He shrugged, urging her towards the door. ‘Neither did I. But Piper loves being outside and we needed to do something while we’re out here.’
Frances rubbernecked her way up the path, nice and slow for the neighbours, he thought dryly, and sighed while she gushed. She gushed when she didn’t know what to say, though what the problem was he had no idea.
‘And the house. Freshly painted? You actually painted?’ She glanced around. ‘Pastel like the others in the street. It’s gorgeous.’
Finn looked at the stucco walls. They’d been a pain to paint. ‘Piper chose the colour. I would have preferred a blue but, given the choice, she went for pink every time. Never thought I’d have a stereotypical daughter.’
Frances laughed and waved her hand dismissively. ‘Piper’s too young to choose.’
‘No, she’s not,’ he said mildly. ‘How can you say it’s not her choice if I give her four colours and she keeps choosing pink?’
Frances looked at him as if he needed a big dose of sympathy for his feeble brain. ‘You didn’t pretend she was choosing?’
‘Who else was I going to ask?’ He heard the edge in his voice. And his sister shut up. So then he felt mean.
It was always like this. On and on until he shut her down. She meant well, but for heaven’s sake. He wanted her gone already.
They finally made it to the front door.
In an attempt to lighten the mood he stopped to show her something else. ‘Piper helped everywhere.’ He kissed the top of his daughter’s head as she perched on his hip. Quiet for a change because she hadn’t quite found her ease with her aunt. Or maybe she was picking up Finn’s nervous vibes. Either way she leaned into him, unusually subdued.
He pointed to a handprint on the front step that he’d finished with instant cement. Using a layer of cling wrap over the wet surface, he’d pressed her starfish hand into the step on each side while holding her clamped to his side. The little palm prints made him smile every time he opened the door.
‘Come in.’ He heard the pride in his voice and mocked himself. Finn the decorator. ‘There’s still the kitchen and laundry, but I’ve finished Piper’s corner, the bathroom and the floating boards on the floor because she’ll need a solid surface to learn to walk on.’
Frances rotated her neck, as if stuck to the step and that was the only part of her body she could move. ‘It’s tiny.’
He frowned. ‘Yes. It’s a beach cottage. Not a mansion.’
She blinked. Shifted uneasily. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. But your other beautiful house...’
‘Is on the market.’
Now the shock was real. Frances had approved mightily of his imposing residence on top of the hill. Two hills over from her imposing residence. He’d only liked it because Clancy, his missing wife, had loved it.
Frances spluttered, ‘You’re buying a new house?’
‘I’ve bought a new house.’ He put out one hand and gestured. ‘This house. I’m staying here.’
‘I... I thought you’d done this for the owners. That you rented?’
‘I am the owner.’ A little too fierce, Finn, he chided himself.
Frances leaned towards him pleadingly. ‘But your work?’
‘Will be here too when I’m ready. One of the GPs here has offered me a place in his practice when I’m ready. I’ll specialise in children but do all the GP stuff I’ve almost forgotten. It’ll be good.’ He wasn’t sure who he was convincing, Frances or himself. ‘It won’t be yet because I’m in no hurry.’
‘But...’
‘But what?’
His sister turned worried eyes on his. ‘You were only supposed to come here for a few weeks and then come back. Come home.’
‘Home to where, Frances? To what? To an empty castle on a hill full of ghosts and pain. To a clinic with not enough hours in the day so I had to keep my daughter in long day care?’
Frances looked stricken and he leaned in and shared a hug with her, Piper still a limpet on his other hip. Frances meant well and she truly loved him. And now that Mum was gone she was all the family he had. Of course she’d never understood him with the ten-year age difference. Frances hadn’t understood Mum either, if they were being honest. ‘It’s okay. This is a magic place to live and for Piper and me this is the right place at the right time. We’re staying.’
Frances almost wrung her hands. ‘You won’t meet any eligible women here.’
He could feel his mood slip further. His irritation rise. His disappointment deepen. His sister didn’t understand his guilt couldn’t be fixed by an eligible woman. ‘Eligible for what, Frances? I’m no good for any woman at the moment and won’t be...’ he didn’t say ever ‘...for a very long time.’
He decided not to demonstrate the shower. Or point anything else out. Ditched the plans to take a picnic to the beach.
Instead he took Frances to the most expensive restaurant in town, where Piper slept in her stroller beside the table despite the noise of conversations and laughter all around, and listened to her stories of droll people and dire events in her husband’s practice.
In the corner of the restaurant he noticed a very attractive brunette. She nodded at him and he realised it was his morning midwife, elegantly dressed—sans scrubs—and made-up like a model, her brown hair blow-dried and shining, the glints catching the sun. Looking like a million bucks. Other men were looking at her. He preferred the windblown version.
She sat, a little isolated, in a lively group of people, all chinking champagne flutes to celebrate. Frances would approve of the clientele, he thought dryly, but recognised the older doctor he’d mentioned to his sister, and noted the stylish older woman next to him who leant into his shoulder, probably his wife. Another young woman he hadn’t seen around was chatting to the vibrantly glowing woman in the latter stages of pregnancy who drank water, and next to her a man hovered protectively, obviously the doting father-to-be.
He wished him better luck than he’d had. Finn felt his heart twist in self-disgust. He’d tried that. A lot of good that had done him.
‘Finn?’
His sister’s voice called him back to the present and he jerked his face away from them. ‘Sorry. You were telling me about Gerry’s partner?’
Frances hovered over being cross for a moment and thankfully decided to forgive graciously. ‘I was saying she has no idea how a doctor’s wife should dress.’
The lunch dragged on until finally Piper woke up and gave him an excuse to pay the bill.
They waved Frances goodbye after lunch with much relief. ‘Seriously, Piper. Your aunt is getting worse. We’re lucky to be so far away.’
They took the sand buckets and spade back down to the beach in the afternoon because Piper’s routine had been disrupted and she needed to get some play time in and wear herself out before bedtime.
To his surprise, and with a seagull-like swoop of uplifting spirits, the morning midwife sat there on the breakwall, back in beach clothes and mussed by the wind. He smiled at her like a long-lost friend. After the visit from his sister he felt as if he needed a pal.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA SAT SWINGING her legs on the breakwall down on the beach and breathed in the salt. The sea air blew strands into her eyes but it felt too good to worry about that. She saw him before he saw her and a deep, slashing frown marred his forehead. Different to this morning. Then his expression changed as he saw her, the etched lines disappeared and an unexpected, ridiculously sexy, warmly welcoming smile curved in a big sweep. Goodness. What had she done to deserve that?
‘Lovely afternoon,’ he said and the little girl waved.
Trina’s mouth twitched as she waved back. ‘Beautiful. I saw you at lunch. That’s three times in a day.’
‘A new world record,’ he agreed and she blushed. No idea why.
He paused beside her, another world record, and looked down from far too high. Up close and stationary, told herself again, he would be a very good-looking man—to other women. She studied him almost dispassionately. Long lashes framed those brilliant blue eyes and his dark brown wavy hair curled a tad too long over his ears. His chin was set firm and his cheekbones bordered on harsh in the bright light. She could see his effort to be social cost him. She knew the feeling.
‘I’m Catrina Thomas.’ She didn’t enlarge. He could ask if he was interested, but something told her he wasn’t so much interested as in need of a friend. Which suited her perfectly.
‘Finlay Foley. And you’ve met Piper. My daughter.’ The little girl bounced in the backpack.
You could do nothing but smile at Piper. ‘Piper looks like she wants to get down amongst the sand.’
‘Piper is happiest when she’s caked in sand.’ His hand lifted to stroke the wiggling little leg at his chest. Strong brown fingers tickling a plump golden baby ankle. ‘We’re going to build sandcastles. Piper is going to play hard and long and get extremely tired so she will sleep all night.’ Trina wasn’t sure if he was telling her or telling Piper. She suspected the latter.
‘Nice theory,’ Trina agreed judiciously. ‘I see you have it all worked out.’
He began to fiddle with the straps as he extricated his daughter from the backpack and clinically she watched the muscle play as man power pulled his loose white shirt tight. His thick dark hair tousled in the wind and drew her eyes until she was distracted again by the wriggling child. Finlay popped her down in the sand on her bottom and put a spade and bucket beside her.
‘There, miss.’ He glanced up at Trina. ‘Her aunt came today and she’s ruined our sleep routine.’ He paused at that. ‘Speaking of routines, this is late in the day for you to be on the beach.’
‘Nice of you to notice.’ She wasn’t sure if it was. There had been a suspicious lift of her spirits when she’d realised the woman he’d shared lunch with was his sister. What was that? She didn’t have expectations and he wouldn’t either—not that she supposed he would have. She wasn’t ready for that. ‘Don’t get ideas or I’ll have to leave.’ Almost a joke. But she explained.
‘Today is my first official Friday off for a long time. I’m off nights and on day shifts for the next year. Monday to Thursday.’ She looked around at the little groups and families on the beach and under the trees at the park. Pulled a mock frowning face. ‘I’ll have to talk to people and socialise, I guess.’
‘I know. Sucks, doesn’t it.’ The underlying truth made them both stop and consider. And smile a little sheepishly at each other.
Another urge to be truthful came out of nowhere. ‘I’m a widow and not that keen on pretending to be a social butterfly. Hence the last two years on night duty.’
He said more slowly, as if he wasn’t sure why he was following suit either, ‘My wife left us when Piper was born. A day later. I’ve morphed into antisocial and now I’m hiding here.’
Died? Or left? How could his wife leave when their daughter was born? She closed her mouth with a snap. Not normal. Something told her Piper’s mum hadn’t died, though she didn’t know why. Postnatal depression then? A chilling thought. Not domestic violence?
As if he read her thoughts, he added, ‘I think she left with another man.’ He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in her disbelief. ‘I need to start thinking about going back to work soon. Learn to stop trying to guess what happened. To have adult conversations.’
He shrugged those impressive shoulders. Glanced around at the white sand and waves. ‘I’m talking to Piper’s dolls now.’
Still bemused by the first statement, the second took a second to sink in. Surprisingly, Trina giggled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d giggled like a schoolgirl.
He smiled and then sobered. ‘Which means Piper and her dolls must go into day care if I go back to work.’
‘That’s hard,’ Trina agreed but wondered what sort of work he could ‘start thinking about going back to’. Not that there were screeds of choices around here. ‘Maybe part-time?’
‘I think so.’
‘Are you a builder? The house looks good.’
He laughed at that. ‘No. Far from it. Piper’s taught me everything I know.’
Trina giggled again. Stop it. She sounded like a twit. But he was funny. ‘I didn’t have you pegged as a comedian.’
His half-laugh held a hint of derision at himself. ‘Not usually. Remember? Antisocial.’
She nodded with solemn agreement. ‘You’re safe with me. If you need a protected space to tell your latest doll story you can find me.’ She waited until his eyes met hers. ‘But that’s all.’
‘Handy to know. Where do I find you? You know where I live.’ Then he turned away as if he regretted asking.
‘Of course I know where you live. It’s a small town and single men with babies are rare.’ Trina looked at him. ‘I meant...find me here. But I’ll think about it. I’m happy to have a male friend but not a stalker.’
She felt like an idiot saying that but thankfully he just looked relieved. ‘Hallelujah. And I promise I will never, ever turn up uninvited.’
‘We have that sorted.’ She glanced at Piper, who sat on the sand licking white granules off her fingers, and bit back a grin. ‘It’s good when children will eat anything.’
Finn focused instantly on his daughter and scooped her up. Trina could see him mentally chastising himself. She imagined something like, See what happens when you don’t concentrate on your daughter, and she knew he’d forgotten her. Was happy for the breathing space because, speaking of breathing, she was having a little trouble.
She heard his voice from a long way away. ‘Sand is for playing—not eating, missy.’ He scooped the grains from her mouth and brushed her lips. His quick glance brushed over Trina as well as he began to move away. ‘Better go wash her mouth out and concentrate. Nice to meet you, Catrina.’
‘You too,’ she said, suddenly needing to bolt home and shut her door.
* * *
Ten minutes later the lock clunked home solidly and she leant back against the wood. Another scary challenge achieved.
Not that she’d been in danger—just a little more challenged than she’d been ready for. And she had been remarkably loose with her tongue. Told him she was a widow. About her job. The hours she worked. What had got into her? That was a worry. So much so that it did feel incredibly comforting to be home. Though, now that she looked around, it seemed dark inside. She frowned. Didn’t just seem dark.
Her home was dark.
And just a little dismal. She frowned and then hurried to reassure herself. Not tragically so, more efficiently gloomy for a person who slept through a lot of the daylight hours. She pulled the cord on the kitchen blind and it rolled up obediently and light flooded in from the front, where the little dead-end road finished next door.
She moved to the side windows and thinned the bunching of the white curtains so she could see through them. Maybe she could open those curtains too. Now that she’d be awake in the daytime. Moving out of the dark, physically and figuratively.
So, she’d better see to lightening it up. Maybe a few bright cushions on her grey lounge suite; even a bright rug on the floor would be nice. She stared down at the grey and black swirled rug she’d bought in a monotone furnishing package when she moved in. Decided she didn’t like the lack of colour.
She crossed the room and threw open the heavy curtains that blocked the view. Unlocking the double glass doors and pushing them slowly open, she stepped out onto her patio to look out over the glittering expanse of ocean that lay before her like a big blue shot-thread quilt as far as the eye could see. She didn’t look down to the beach, though she wanted too. Better not see if there was the figure of a man and a little girl playing in the waves.
Instead she glanced at the little croft to her right where Ellie and Sam lived while Sam built the big house on the headland for their growing family. She wondered if they would keep the croft, as they said they would. It would be strange to have new neighbours on top of everything else.
The three crofts sat like seabirds perched on a branch of the headland, the thick walls painted white like the lighthouse across the bay and from the same solid stone blocks. Trina’s veranda had a little awning over the deck the others lacked. A thick green evergreen hedge separated the buildings to shoulder height.
On the other side of her house lay Myra’s croft. Originally from Paddington in Sydney, stylish Myra ran the coffee shop at the hospital and had recently married the older Dr Southwell—her boss. Ellie’s father-in-law.
Two brides in two months, living each side of her, and maybe that had jolted her out of her apathy as much as anything else. Surrounded by people jumping bravely into new relationships and new lives had to make a woman think.
She stepped out and crossed to the two-person swing seat she’d tussled with for hours to assemble. Her last purchase as a flat-pack. Last ever, she promised herself.
She’d never seen so many screws and bolts and instructions in one flat-pack. Then she’d been left with a contraption that had to be dragged inside when it got too windy here on top of the cliffs because it banged and rattled and made her nervous that it would fly into the ocean on a gust. It wasn’t really that she thought about the fact it needed a second person. Not at all.
She stepped back inside, glanced around then picked up the sewing basket and dug in it for the ribbons she’d put away. Went back to the double doors and tied back the curtains so they were right off the windows. Not that she was getting visitors—her mind shied away from the mental picture of a man and his baby daughter.
No. She’d lighten it because now she didn’t need to exclude the light to help her sleep. She was a day-shift person. She was brave. And tomorrow she’d scuba again, and maybe talk to Finlay and Piper if she saw them because she was resurrecting her social skills and stepping forward. Carefully.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
FINN GLANCED BACK to the rocky breakwall once, to the spot where Catrina—nice name—had disappeared, as he crouched with Piper at the edge of the water to rinse her mouth of sand. It seemed other people did hurt like he did. And were left with scars that impacted hugely on how they lived their lives.
Two years working on night duty. He shuddered but could see the logic. Side-stepping the cold space beside you in the bed at night and avoiding that feeling of loss being the first thing you noticed in the day. Maybe he should have given that a go.
But the way she’d said she hadn’t pegged him as a comedian surprised him out of his usual lethargy. He’d made her laugh twice—that was pretty stellar. Apart from his daughter, whose sense of humour ran to very simple slapstick, he hadn’t made anyone giggle for a long time. He could almost hear her again. Such a delicious giggle. More of a gurgle really.
So—a widow? Lost like him, for a different reason. He wondered how her husband had died but in the end it didn’t really change her pain. He was gone. For ever. Unlike the uncertainty he lived with.
Would Clancy ever come back? In a year. In ten years? Was she even alive? But, most of all, what would he tell Piper when she grew up? How could he say her mother loved her when she’d walked away and never asked about her again? The pain for Piper’s future angst had grown larger than his own loss and he had no desire to rush the explanations.
Milestones with Piper never passed without him singeing himself with bitterness that Clancy wasn’t there to see them. First tooth. First word. First step last week—though she still spent most of her time on her bottom. And on Sunday—first birthday. He felt his jaw stiffen. That would be the day he said enough. Enough holding his breath, expecting Clancy to walk through the door.
A milestone he’d never thought he’d get to. He hadn’t decided whether to stay in Lighthouse Bay for the day with their usual routine; he was leaning towards taking Piper shopping, something he loathed, so that the logistics of strollers and car parking and crowd managing with a toddler drowned out the reminders of the best day of his life twelve months ago that had changed so soon after.
He wondered suddenly if he could ask Catrina to come. As a diversion, a pseudo-mother for the day, and then found himself swamped by such intense anger at Clancy for leaving their daughter he almost moaned. Piper clutched his hand and he looked down to see his daughter’s eyes staring up at him as if she could sense his pain.
He scooped her up and hugged her, felt the lump in his chest and willed it away. Whatever they did, he needed to remember it was a celebration of this angel in his arms, not of the woman who’d left them.
‘I’ll always love you, darling.’ The words came out thickly. ‘What would you like to do on Sunday, Piper?’
‘Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum.’
He groaned and buried his face in her shimmering golden cloud of hair. Fine mist-like hair that floated in the breeze and tangled if he didn’t tie it back but he couldn’t bring himself to get it cut. His gorgeous little buttercup with her fine-spun headache of hair.
‘Mum, Mum, Mum,’ Piper chirped.
The last thing he needed to hear at this moment. ‘Oh, baby, don’t. Please.’
She squirmed and the baby voice drifted up to him. Uncertain. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad?’
Pull yourself together. He lifted his head and looked into the soft dimpled face so close to his. ‘Yes. Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.’ He carried her into the waves to dangle her feet and she wriggled happily. He concentrated on his fingers holding her as he swept her ankles through the waves and the foam ran up her knees as she squealed in delight. Guilt swamped him all over again. ‘You can say Mum, Mum, Mum any time, my darling. Of course you can. Daddy’s being silly.’ Stupid!
Piper gurgled with laughter. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.’ Finn could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces again and any lingering thoughts of Catrina the midwife washed into the sea with the grains of sand stuck to Piper’s feet.
CHAPTER SIX (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
THE EARLY-MORNING SUNBEAM poked Trina in the eye with an unfamiliar exuberance and she groaned and threw her hand up to cover her face. Who left the curtains open? Only one answer to that. The twinge of morning memory and loss made her breath hitch and she forced herself to breathe calmly.
Saturday morning. Scuba lesson. She groaned again and all the doubts and fears from last week came rushing back to twist her stomach. Why had she said she wanted to do this again? Why the need to push herself to extremes she didn’t feel comfortable with?
She flung the bedclothes back and swung her legs. The floor was warmed a little under her feet from the sun. That too seemed different.
Okay. Why was she fighting this? This was a new chapter in her life. Same book. She wasn’t removing any of the pages—just going forward.
She squinted at the morning beams painting the inside of her one-room croft in golden stripes and decided they were quite lovely. Not worth groaning about at all.
She padded across to the uncurtained double doors looking out over the ocean and decided the light streaming in shone still a little too bright until she’d made an Earl Grey to start the day and turned her back.
As she busied herself in the tiny kitchen nook, she pondered on yesterday and the advances she’d made towards holding a sensible conversation with an eligible male. Though technically she guessed he wasn’t eligible. But probably safe to practise on, as long as he was okay with it.
Not that she had any long-term intentions but she’d done all right. Beaten the bogeyman, and so had he. That made it a little easier. And no doubt different for him, as his wife had chosen to go. How on earth could a woman leave her baby? And why would she leave Finlay? That too was a teensy worry.
Trina thought back to where she’d been a year ago. Still in a black fog with a bright shiny mask on her face for work.
She didn’t believe that time healed all wounds, but maybe it scabbed over some of the deeper lacerations. The problem with losing your true love was they were never really gone, always hovering, a comfort, and an ache that flared into pain that burned right through you.
Boy, did she recognise the symptoms of reluctantly dipping a toe into the real world after the misty haze of deep grief. There were some aspects of her loss of Ed that would never disappear but in other ways she could, and would, live a happy life. She didn’t think that Finlay Foley had reached that stage yet. Which was a tiny shame.
But she’d better get on and prepare for her scuba lesson. She’d eat when she came back.
By the time Trina left her croft on the cliff she knew she’d be late if she didn’t hurry and her steps skipped as she descended to the beach with her towel and specially fitted snorkelling mask. That was one good thing about living right on the beach—she didn’t need to carry much because home was always a few steps away.
The path stopped at the sand and Trina began walking quickly around the headland. She’d glanced once towards the curve of the bay but no Finlay and Piper there, no sign of him, so tall and broad and unmistakable, so no golden-haired Piper on his back either, and fancifully it felt strange to be hurrying away without seeing them.
She forced herself to look forward again and concentrated on the scuba lessons she’d learnt last week from old Tom, running through the procedures.
‘Nice even breathing through the mouthpiece; no holding your breath. This is how to replace a regulator in your mouth if it gets knocked out. This is how to control the speed of your ascent and descent by letting air in and out via the buoyancy control, so your ears don’t hurt. Nothing to be nervous about. We’ll go as slow as you need.’
Two hours later as she walked home in a much more desultory fashion a glow of pride warmed her as she remembered old Tom’s quiet pleasure in her. ‘You’re a natural,’ he’d told her.
A natural scuba diver? Who would have known? But today he’d taken her to the little island just off the beach and they’d dived slowly around the tiny inlets and rocks and seen colourful fish, delicate submarine plant life that swayed with the rhythm of the ocean, once a small stingray and one slightly larger shark, and it had all been Technicolor brilliant. Exciting. And, to her absolute delight, she’d loved it.
Her mind danced with snapshots of the morning and she didn’t see the man and little girl sitting in a shallow rock pool under the cliff until she was almost upon them.
‘Oh. You. Hello,’ she stammered as she was jerked out of her happy reveries.
‘Good morning, Catrina,’ Finlay said. Though how on earth he could remain nonchalant while sitting in a sandy-bottom indent in the rock where the water barely covered his outstretched legs, she had no idea. ‘You look very pleased with yourself.’
She regarded them. She liked the way they looked—so calm and happy, Piper dressed in her frilly pink swimsuit that covered her arms and legs. And she liked the way he called her Catrina. Ed had always called her Trina and she wasn’t ready for another man to shorten her name. ‘Good morning to you, Finlay.’
‘Finn. Please. I’m usually Finn. Don’t know why I was so formal yesterday.’
‘Finn.’ She nodded and smiled down at Piper. ‘Hello, Piper. What can you see in the rock pool?’
The little girl turned her big green eyes back to the water. Pointed one plump finger. ‘Fiss,’ Piper said and Finn’s eyes widened.
His mouth opened and closed just like the word his daughter had almost mouthed.
‘She said fish!’ His eyes were alight with wonder and the huge smile on his face made Trina want to hug him to celebrate the moment of pure joy untinged by bitterness. ‘I can’t believe she said fish.’
‘Clever girl,’ Trina said and battled not to laugh out loud. She’d thought it had been more like a mumbled fiss. But she was sure her father knew better. Her mouth struggled to remain serious. In the end she giggled. Giggled? Again? What the heck?
She’d never been a giggler but this guy made her smiles turn into noises she cringed at.
To hide her idiotic response she said, ‘I’ve seen fish too, Piper.’
Finn glanced at her mask. ‘You’ve been snorkelling?’
Trina spread her arms and said with solemn pride, almost dramatically, ‘I have been scuba diving.’
‘Have you? Go you. I used to love to scuba.’ He glanced around. ‘Would you like to join us in our pool? There’s no lifeguard except me but if you promise not to run or dive we’ll let you share.’
Trina scanned the area too. Nobody she knew. She’d look ridiculous, though a voice inside her head said he looked anything but ridiculous in his skin-tight blue rash shirt and board shorts that left not one gorgeous muscle top or bottom unaccounted for.
She put down her mask and the sandals she carried, folded her towel to sit on, hiked up her sundress so it didn’t drag in the water and eased herself down at the edge of the pool and put her feet in. The water felt deliciously cool against her suddenly warmer skin.
Finn watched her and she tried not to be aware of that. Then Piper splashed him and the mood broke into something more relaxed. ‘So where did you go to scuba?’
She glanced the way she’d come. ‘Have you been around the headland?’
He nodded. ‘Around the next two until Piper started to feel like a bag of cement on my back.’
Trina laughed. She could so imagine that. She smiled at him. ‘The next bay is called Island Bay and the little rocky island that’s about four hundred metres out is called Bay Island.’
He laughed. ‘Creative people around here.’
She pretended to frown at him. ‘I like to think of it as being whimsical.’
‘Whimsical. Right.’
She nodded at him. ‘Thank you. So, Bay Island is where I did this morning’s lesson. Old Tom takes beginners out.’
Piper sat between Finn’s legs and he had his big brown long-fingered hands around her tiny waist so she couldn’t slip. She was splashing with her starfish hands and silver droplets of water dripped in chasing drops down her father’s chest. An unexpected melancholy overwhelmed Trina because the picture made her ache for lost opportunities she should have had with Ed. Opportunities Finn should have had with his wife. She wondered when these thoughts would stop colouring her every experience.
Finn smiled. ‘Let me guess. His business is called Old Tom’s Dive Shop.’
She jerked back to the present. Her brows crinkled in mock disbelief and she drew the sentence out slowly. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I’m psychic.’ His expression remained serious.
‘Really?’ She tried for serious too but he was doing it again and her mouth twitched.
‘Mmm-hmm. True story.’
‘Wow.’ She noted the little girl had found a treasure. ‘So you can see your daughter is about to put a shell in her mouth?’
Without taking his eyes off Trina’s face, his hand came up gently and directed Piper’s hand away from her lips. Brushed her fingers open until she dropped the shell and bent down and kissed the little fingers. ‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s fascinating.’ And it was. Watching this big bronzed man being so gentle and connected to this tiny girl-child. The bond between them made tears sting Trina’s eyes and she pretended she’d splashed water in them. Until she felt, and heard, her tummy rumble with sullen emptiness and seized on the excuse.
‘Well, as lovely as your private ocean pool is, I need to have food. I missed breakfast and I’m starving.’
‘Ah. So that’s what the noise was,’ he teased. ‘I thought it was an outboard motor.’
She flicked tiny droplets from her damp fingers at him. ‘Too rude.’
He rolled his eyes at her, then shifted Piper from between his legs to sit in the shallow pool and stood up easily. He leant down to offer her his hand. ‘Piper’s hungry. I should feed her too.’
She barely heard him. His so casually offered fingers were a stumbling block and she hesitated. Piper splashed and she knew she was holding them up. Reluctantly she put out her hand to his and his strong brown fingers closed over hers to lift her smoothly. Way too easily. But the touch of his fingers on hers created such a vibration between them that their eyes met. One pair as startled as the other.
When she was standing he let go quickly and bent down to hoist his daughter into his arms. His face stayed hidden as he tickled her and Trina straightened her own shocked features into a mask of politeness as Piper giggled.
‘Well,’ she said awkwardly, still rocked by the frisson of awareness that had warmed her whole hand. Her whole arm really. ‘Thanks for the swim.’
‘Can we walk back with you?’
No, she thought. ‘Of course,’ she said. And resisted the urge to hold her tingling hand in the other. She bent down and picked up her sandals and mask, slung her towel over her shoulder and resolutely faced the bay until they began walking beside her.
‘Would you like to have lunch with us?’
No, she thought. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m feeling and it’s making me more nervous than scuba diving ever did. But that was the idea of these new challenges. To challenge things that seemed daunting. And Finn was safe. It took her a long time to answer but strangely she didn’t feel pressured to make that snap decision. So she thought about it some more. It was just an impromptu lunch. And Piper made it much easier than if there were just the two of them. ‘Okay. Where?’
‘How about the beach shop? They have a closed-in play area that Piper loves to crawl around. It’s shady and the breeze is always good there.’
‘Sounds easy. But how about I meet you there? I didn’t bring my purse. I can just run up to the croft and get it.’
He looked a little crestfallen. ‘Piper may not last that long. She’s nearly ready for her sleep. I could shout you. You could pay for ice creams or something next time?’
Next time? They hadn’t tried this time yet. This was all happening way too fast. And wasn’t he having as much trouble as she was, putting a toe in the water of opposite sex conversation? Panic built like a wave rising from the ocean to her left. She tried to ride it and not be dumped.
He must have seen the indecision on her face because his features softened in understanding. ‘It’s okay. We can do a rain-check for another day.’
Disappointment dipped in her stomach. Did she want that? Why was everything so hard? ‘No. Let’s not. Thank you. I’ll just buy the next one, if that’s okay. A quick bite would be nice with company.’
They sat under the umbrellas and watched Piper play with a stand of coloured balls, then crawl importantly to steer a pretend ship with a bright blue Captain’s wheel. Every time the conversation flagged, Piper sparked a new discussion with some cute little parody of life in her determination to experience all that the colourful play area offered.
Trina could do with her enthusiasm. Considered that fact. ‘Babies should be compulsory on all outings. You could watch her all day.’
Finn laughed. Then, more seriously, said, ‘I do. She keeps me sane. Makes me get out of bed in the morning.’
Trina knew that feeling. ‘Well, you’ve certainly been busy since you got here. Your cottage is pretty in pink.’
‘Piper chose the colour,’ he said and then looked at her as if expecting her to laugh.
‘So she’s a pink girl. I can believe that. It looks good on her.’ Trina rested her cheek on her hand to watch his face, trying to understand why he should be so wary. ‘How did you get her to choose?’
‘I gave her swatches. I was hoping for blue but she took the pink every time.’
Too funny. Trina laughed. ‘Great idea. I can see that too.’ She looked at his face and his beautiful smile. She shook her head. ‘Her decision. You were stuck with it. Nothing you can do about that, then.’
He shrugged, his expression light and relaxed. It made her warm that he could be that way around her. ‘I’m used to it now. I’ve been learning to be a handyman. And quite enjoying the challenge.’
Handyman. Or woman. The bane of her life. She rolled her eyes. ‘Boy, have I had some repair challenges in the last two years? I’ve had to learn that too. Maybe I should paint my croft. Just yesterday I was thinking it looks very dark inside.’ She shut her mouth. Now, why did she say that? Almost an invitation for help.
Finn’s voice was light—lighter than her thoughts. ‘I can send Piper up if you like. To talk colours with you.’
Trina felt herself relax. He got it. Her expression had probably telegraphed the message that she’d regretted being so open. ‘I might take you up on that one day.’ She could hear the relief in her voice. Hoped he couldn’t.
They’d finished their roast beef sandwiches and iced coffee and Trina desperately needed some distance to think about the morning with Finn but the moment passed.
A commotion at the next table made them both turn. A woman had overturned her chair and the crash turned every head her way. She shook a small child hysterically. ‘Spit it out. Come on.’ She glanced around wildly. ‘He swallowed a button.’
The child gasped weakly, tried to cry and couldn’t find enough air to do so as he gulped and coughed. His face was tinged an alarming shade of blue as his mouth quivered.
Finn rose from their table and crossed the space in two strides. ‘May I? I’m a doctor.’ He didn’t wait long.
The woman sagged, nodded and, sobbing in panic, watched as Finn took the child from her. Trina had followed him and righted the woman’s chair and urged her back into it. Finn was a doctor. Wow. He’d said he wasn’t a vet.
Finn sank into the nearest seat and lay the little boy, head down, across his knees and patted his mid back firmly in slow pats.
Trina leaned towards him. ‘Can I help?’
Finn shook his head and concentrated on the boy. He patted again, then tipped him further. ‘Come on now, mate. Everything is fine. Cough it up.’
To Trina’s relief a sudden plop heralded the arrival of the button as it flew out onto the floor, initiating a collective sigh of relief from the entire café. And her. Wow. Calmness is us.
Finn righted the little boy and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Then he stood up with the exhausted child in his arms and passed him to his mother as if nothing had happened.
‘He’ll be fine. Just needs a minute to get his breath back.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly into her ear. Trina couldn’t hear what he said but the woman nodded. Once. Twice. Glanced at the boy in her arms and squeezed him tighter. Then looked back at Finn with a vehement nod. ‘Thank you.’ The words were heartfelt.
Trina felt her eyes sting. Her heart still thudded from the spectre of a child choking to death in front of them all. She had no doubt everyone there had felt for the fear of the mother, though Trina would have liked to have given her a few pointers about first aid manoeuvres.
She glanced to where Piper played contentedly, oblivious to the drama she’d missed, and oblivious to the fact her daddy had quite possibly just saved a little boy’s life. Trina wanted to go home. She felt too emotional to be out in public. Though she suspected she would still be thinking about Finn even if she was away from him.
When Finn sat back down and the conversations around them had begun again she nodded towards the woman, who was paying her bill and leaving with her little boy hugging her leg as he waited.
‘Good job. What did you say to her?’ She didn’t mention he’d said he was a doctor. It didn’t matter what he was.
‘I asked if she’d seen what I did and, if there was a next time, to try that instead. That shaking didn’t help and was actually dangerous. That calm speaking would relax the oesophagus as well.’
‘I’m impressed. Discreet and direct.’ The guy did everything right. But she still needed to get away from the emotionally charged atmosphere. She collected her mask and towel from the ground beside her and pushed her chair back. ‘Before all the excitement I was about to leave. So thank you for lunch.’ She glanced at his daughter, who had apparently wrung every conceivable amusement out of the play area and looked to be ready to depart as well.
‘Maybe next weekend I could repay the favour.’ Piper wailed. ‘As long as Piper is free?’
Finn stood up to rescue his daughter. ‘I’ll look in her calendar and let you know.’
Their eyes connected for a moment, both a little bemused by the ease of their conversation. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you, Finn.’
‘Thank you, Catrina.’ He watched her again and she knew he didn’t want her to go. His approval circled her like a whisper of flame crackling and warming her around the base of her lost confidence. But the lure of time away from this new and challenging situation beckoned enticingly.
She stood and waved to the tiny girl. ‘Bye, Piper.’
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
FINN WATCHED HER walk swiftly across the car park to the path. Almost hurrying away from him. Was it the incident with the little boy? That had turned out okay. Poor terrified little kid and mum—but all right now.
His eyes followed Catrina as Piper leaned into his neck. Maybe she’d left because she felt he was pushing for her company? He was. Why was he pressuring her? If someone had pushed him like he was pushing her he’d have run for the hills. Or a croft. Which she did.
Maybe he was sabotaging himself and hoping she’d stop it before he did? But there was no getting over the fact he’d been a little desperate for Catrina to stay.
And then there had been that jolt when he’d helped her stand at the rock pool. Unconsciously his hands came together to replicate the action, as if to see if he could still feel that vibration that had taken them both by surprise. It had been bizarre, and he’d seen the shock in her face—apparently he hadn’t been the only one to feel it—before he’d picked up Piper to give himself a moment to recover.
He wished he’d told her it was Piper’s birthday tomorrow. Because at lunch, after an initial stiffness, conversation had felt so easy. It had been strangely healing to have her sitting opposite him as they both watched his baby playing. When Catrina was there it was easier not to think about where Piper’s mother would be tomorrow.
The guilt hit him like a fist in the chest and he sucked in his breath. What was he doing? How could he think that? He was a coward and tomorrow he’d celebrate Piper—he needed to be man enough not to cower in a corner feeling sorry for himself. He paid the bill and gathered Piper up in his arms.
Tomorrow he’d survive and Monday he’d see about getting a job.
* * *
Sunday morning Finn woke with a headache. Unusually, Piper had been unsettled most of the night and he wondered if they were both coming down with a cold. Or if the emotion of the coming anniversary of Clancy’s desertion was rubbing off him and onto Piper.
He took two paracetamol and a vitamin tablet, and hand-squeezed an orange to give Piper with her breakfast. Because she was still asleep, he decided they wouldn’t go out for the day if they were both unwell. He looked at the two wrapped presents he had for Piper. One was a tiny gardening set in a flower-decorated garden basket and the other a push-along block set for inside or out.
The cupboard above the sink drew his eyes and he crossed the room and searched for the packet cake mix he’d thrown in there a month ago in case he needed to make Piper’s birthday cake. The packet mix came with little blue cupcake wrappers, pink frosting and fairy princess stickers to press into the icing after they’d been cooked.
The instructions seemed basic and he set it all out, with the candle, for later when he could make some noise. He glanced across at Piper but she snored gently and he wandered to the front of the beach house and stared out at the waves across the bay.
He could see Catrina walking along the breakwall and watched her brisk walk as she strode further away, the wind whipping her hair across her face. He wanted to wave and call her and share the burden and the blessing of this day with her, but knew he wouldn’t.
‘Last thing she needs,’ he told himself out loud, keeping his voice quiet.
‘Boo,’ said a little voice from behind him and he turned to see Piper standing in her cot with her bunny cuddle blanket over her face.
Despite his aching heart, he smiled. ‘Where’s Piper?’
Piper pulled the blanket off her head and appeared like magic. Her eyes crinkled with delight at her own cleverness. ‘Boo.’
‘There she is.’ He crossed the room to her but before he arrived he put his hands over his face and then pulled them away. ‘Boo to you too, missy. Happy birthday, Piper!’ He lifted her up out of her cot and hugged her. She gurgled with squirming delight and he had to force himself not to squeeze her too tight.
He began to sing ‘Happy birthday’ but faltered halfway through when he thought of Clancy and all she was missing. Forcing himself to finish the song, he carried Piper over to the window. ‘It’s a breezy sunny day for your birthday. What would you like to do?’
Piper put her head on his shoulder and snuggled in.
Suddenly it was okay again. They could do this. ‘You feeling a little fragile today, poppet? Me too. But I’m making you a cake this morning. You can help by pushing on the stickers. It will be our first cake but your daddy is a doctor and supposed to be very smart. I’m sure we can manage little pink cakes for our birthday girl.’ She bounced with a little more enthusiasm in his arms.
‘Then we can sit outside and let the sunshine and fresh air kill all the germs, if there are any. No work today. Lazy day.’
He put Piper down on the floor and she crawled away from him to her box of toys in the corner with just a little less than her usual surprising speed.
He watched her go and thought about looking for childcare tomorrow. If he couldn’t find anything then they’d leave it all for a while longer. That thought brought comfort. Surely it would be hard to find someone in a small town like this at such short notice.
He glanced out of the window again down to the beach and saw Catrina was on her way back. She didn’t pass his house, or hadn’t in the past or he would have noticed, and he leaned towards the window and saw her moving up the hill towards the cliff opposite the lighthouse. She’d said ‘croft’ yesterday. Maybe she was in one of those three little cottages on the cliffs that matched the lighthouse. All white stone.
He’d liked the look of them but the real estate agent had said they weren’t for sale. He’d never actually gone up that way towards the hospital along the cliff path. Maybe it would be a nice place to go for a change when he went walking with Piper. Just in case he was missing out on a good walk, he reassured himself. But not today. He had promised he’d never drop in uninvited and had no intention of doing so.
Except the morning dragged. They went to the beach but the wind was a little cool to get wet and if Piper was coming down with a cold he didn’t want to make it worse. Before long they went home and played inside. But he felt closed in staying indoors. Piper seemed to have recovered and before lunch she’d become unusually bored.
So after lunch, full from eating little pink cakes and with a sealed bag holding an extra one, he hefted Piper onto his back and went for a walk up the hill.
Yes, he nodded to himself dryly, towards the cliff path, not totally directed to one of the crofts that he wondered might belong to Catrina, but certainly it felt good to be outside, with a fresh breeze blowing the cobwebs and fingers of darkness from his lowered mood.
‘Dad, Dad, Dad,’ Piper burbled from behind his ear—so Piper liked being outside too, and it was her birthday. He was supposed to be doing what she wanted. Each of his steps up the hill lightened his mood and the hill path was well maintained and solid under his feet. He could feel the exertion and decided Catrina could probably run up this hill if she did it a couple of times a day. He wasn’t quite up to that yet.
The path forked towards the cottages one way and down onto a cliff edge path on the other and he realised the crofts had hedges around them for privacy from below.
That was good. He wouldn’t want anybody to be able to peek into Catrina’s house just by walking along the path, but it was a tiny bit disappointing that he couldn’t see any of the buildings up close. Then he rounded a bend and the path snaked up again and as he trekked up the hill he realised they’d come out past the cottages.
Quite ingenious really. At the top they came out onto a little open area with a bench and an ancient telescope that had been cemented into the footpath to look out to sea.
He paused and bent down to peer through it, which was hard with Piper suddenly excited and bouncing on his back, when a voice spoke behind him.
‘I bet Piper is heavier going uphill.’
He could feel the smile on his face as he turned—he hadn’t imagined her.
‘Hello there, Catrina.’
‘Hello, you two, and what are you doing up here in the clouds?’
‘We’ve never been here before. And it’s Piper’s birthday.’
Her face broke into a shining sunbeam of a smile and she stepped closer to drop a kiss on Piper’s cheek. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart. I hope Daddy made you a cake.’
Piper bounced and crowed.
‘Of course. Though really we made cupcakes with pink princess stickers.’
This time the smile was for him. ‘I wish I could have seen them.’
It felt good to know he’d thought ahead. ‘By a stroke of luck, we do have a spare one in our bag which I’m sure Piper would love to share with you?’ He looked around and considered the logistics of Piper and a cliff edge. Maybe not.
It seemed that Catrina got it in one. ‘It’s too tricky here for a birthday girl. Come back and I’ll show you the croft. We can sit on the balcony; it’s well fenced and safe.’
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA TURNED ON the path and directed them along the other fork back towards her house, beckoning them to follow. Thankfully, facing the other way, Finn couldn’t see the expression on her face. She still couldn’t believe she’d invited them into her home. So blithely. Since when had her bravery suddenly known no bounds?
Well, she could hear Finn’s springing footsteps behind her as she led the way around the loop that led to the cottages again and within seconds they’d popped out onto the road outside the last croft, where Myra and Dr Southwell lived. As they passed the door opened and the older gentleman stepped out.
He smiled when he saw her, and then his face lit up further when he saw who followed her. ‘Trina. And Finn. And Piper. Hello. Delightful. So, you’ve met.’
Trina could feel herself blush. ‘Hello. Yes. At the beach.’ Glancing around for inspiration to change the subject, she added, ‘Lovely day.’ Not only had she invited a man back to her house but she’d been caught in the act. Everyone would know. Dr Southwell wasn’t a gossip but, seriously, Ellie’s father-in-law? Small blinkin’ towns.
Trina blushed again under Dr Southwell’s pleased smile.
‘The weather is super. Love to stay and chat but I’m off to the hospital.’ He waved and strode off.
Trina shrugged off the awkwardness with determination. ‘So that’s who lives next door on this side and my boss, Ellie, and her husband, who happens to be an obstetrician, Dr Southwell’s son, live on the other side.’
He looked around at the three crofts as they came to hers, and paused. ‘You’re well covered for medical help then.’ He smiled a little awkwardly.
‘Never too many in an emergency.’ She smiled back, too concerned with whether she’d left the house tidy before he arrived to worry about trying to read his reaction to her neighbours. She indicated her own front path. ‘Come in. It’s small but compact, much like yours is, I imagine.’
‘Yes. Tiny, but I like it. You’ll have to come and see my renovations.’
Not your etchings? She thought it and smiled to herself. Didn’t risk saying anything in case he heard the amusement in her voice. At least she could be amused by something that she would have run a mile from a month ago. In fact, she could have rubbed her knuckles on her chest. Darn proud of herself, really.
She pushed open the door and was glad she’d opened all the blinds this morning. With everything open the sea seemed to be a part of the room, with all eyes being drawn to the open French windows out onto the little terrace. She gestured him to walk that way.
‘Great view,’ Finn said after a low whistle. ‘That’s really magic.’ He walked slowly to the French windows and absently began to undo Piper’s straps.
Trina came up behind him and undid the other one. ‘Here, let me help.’ She lifted Piper out of the straps and set her down. ‘There’s nothing to climb on. I only keep the swing chair out there and it’s against the house wall. It has to come in when it’s windy.’
Piper crawled straight for the rails and her little hands grabbed on as she pulled herself up. She bounced on the balls of her feet. Finn followed her out and Trina stood back a little and admired them both.
A bouncy, healthy little girl and her gorgeous dad. She wasn’t sure when he’d graduated from attractive to other women to gorgeous for her, but she had to admit he made an admirable picture with his big shoulders and strong back silhouetted against the ocean. His long fingers rested lightly and then the curved muscles in his arms bunched as he gripped the rail for a minute. She wondered what he was thinking about as he stood guard over his daughter, his powerful thighs either side of her as one hand left the rail and brushed her small head.
Then the penny dropped. Piper’s birthday. And his wife had left soon after Piper’s birth. That made this time of year a distressing anniversary as well as a day for celebration for Piper. Tough call. She hadn’t even crawled out of bed on the anniversary of losing Ed.
Why hadn’t he said something yesterday? Then she chastised herself. Why would he share that with a stranger?
She swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. ‘Would you two like a cold drink?’ She managed to even her voice. ‘I have a spill-proof cup I use for one of my friend’s daughters.’
‘Piper has her water here, thanks.’ He came back in and bent down to Piper’s pack. Pulled out a little pink pop-top bottle. ‘She’ll use hers.’ Then he pulled out a Ziploc bag. ‘Aha! Here’s your part of Piper’s birthday cake.’
He glanced back at his daughter. ‘Probably best she doesn’t see it as I had no idea she could gobble as many as she did and she’ll be sick if she eats any more.’
Trina nodded and swiped the bag, turning her back to the veranda and opening the seal. She lifted out the little blue-papered cake and admired the rough pink icing and slightly off-centre sticker. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘Piper put the stickers on herself.’
‘Clever girl.’ She looked at him. ‘Clever Daddy for the rest.’
He looked at her. Maybe saw the lingering distress in her eyes and he closed his own for a minute and then looked at her again. Nodded. ‘So you’ve guessed it’s a tough day?’
‘You have a different set of triggers but I was just thinking I didn’t even get out of bed when mine went past.’ They needed to get out and fill the day with something. ‘How about we go for a walk along the cliffs further? There’s a really cool cave overlooking the ocean about a kilometre north I could show you. And there’s a sweet little dip of green grass Piper would love.’ She smiled at the thought. ‘She could probably log roll down the tiny hill. I watched some kids do that one day and it looked fun.’
She saw relief lift the creases from his brow. ‘That does sound good. Is there somewhere you’d prefer me to change Piper before we go? I have a change mat.’
‘You have everything!’ And wasn’t that true. ‘Change mats are great. You can use my bed and save you bending down. I’ll make a little snack for the meadow.’ She turned away. Excited for the first time in a long while with a task she couldn’t wait to play with.
She slipped in two small cans of mixer cordial that she’d bought on a whim. A packet of dates and apricots for Piper. She even had arrowroot biscuits, perfect for a little girl to make a mess with. Threw in some crisps, two apples and a banana. It all fitted in her little cool bag she carried to work each day, along with the tiny checked throw she had never had the opportunity to use for a picnic.
They set off ten minutes later, Piper bouncing on her daddy’s back and Trina swinging along beside them as if she was a part of the little family. She winced at her instinctive comparison. No. Like a party of friends. Looking out for each other.
The sun shone clear and warm on their backs as they strode along the path. The sea breeze blew Piper’s bright golden mist of hair around her chubby face as she chattered away. Trina decided Finn looked so much more relaxed out in the open. It made her feel good that she’d helped.
A cruise ship hugged the horizon and she pointed it out to Finn. Piper saw a seabird dive into the water far below and they had to stop and watch for a minute until it came out again with a fish in its beak.
Trina admired the skill of the surfers, bobbing and swooping like brilliant supple-bodied flying fish on the curling waves.
When she commented, Finn shared, ‘I love surfing.’
‘I’ve never tried.’ Maybe she could add that to her adventure list.
Finn said, ‘When Piper is old enough I’ll teach her to surf. This looks a great place to do that.’
‘Dr Southwell used to surf every morning before he was married. Though I have to admit he did come a cropper when he was washed off the shelf last year.’
He looked back the way they’d come. ‘Really? Ouch. Which shelf?’
She pointed. ‘The ones under the cliffs, with the rock pools we were in yesterday.’
Finn frowned. ‘It doesn’t look dangerous there.’
‘It is on a king tide. And his timing was off if you ask him. They lifted him out with a chopper but the good news was his son met Ellie, my boss, when he came to locum while his father was away, and they married and are having a baby. That’s why I’m doing Ellie’s job for the next year—hence the change from night duty.’
‘Happy ending.’ His voice held only a trace of bitterness. She got that. But she’d moved on herself, thankfully.
She wondered if he’d heard his own subtext because his voice came out warmer than before. ‘So were they all the people in the restaurant on Friday?’
She’d forgotten. ‘Yes, that’s right—you were there. With Piper and your sister.’ She thought back over those present. ‘They were celebrating Ellie’s leave and my promotion.’
‘Congratulations.’
She laughed. ‘Thanks. First day tomorrow. We’ll see.’
She thought back to Friday and the pleasant lunch. Her own surprise to see Finn there. With another woman. Felt just a little embarrassed now she knew it was his sister. Hurried on in case it showed on her face. ‘The other older lady at the table is the one who makes the most divine cakes—Dr Southwell’s wife, Myra.’
‘I guess I’ll get to know them all. Dr Southwell’s offered me a place in his practice. I’ll start as soon as I can find day care for Piper.’
She raised her brows. ‘Do you have a specialty?’
‘I started in general practice. Then I went on and studied paediatrics. I thought everyone knew?’ Then he shook his head. ‘I guess I haven’t really spoken to many people. I have my Diploma of Obstetrics from my GP days, but no real experience in that. Just the antenatal side of it. Not the delivery part.’
He didn’t look old enough to have done all that. Catrina smiled at him, decided she wouldn’t share that thought and shook her head mockingly. ‘We don’t say delivery any more. Especially in Lighthouse Bay. We’re Midwifery Group Practice.’
He put his hands up. ‘Midwifery Group Practice. And I said delivery. My bad.’
‘Very.’ She smiled at him. ‘Everything is midwifery-led and woman-centred. The antenatal clinic is drop-in and popular. When the mother births, we support her choice to stay or go, and she’s visited at home within the day after if that’s what she wants or she can stay for a few days in the hospital. Either way, we don’t call a doctor unless someone is sick.’
He put out his hands helplessly and pretended to sigh. ‘I’m defunct and I haven’t even started.’
She laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it. You should meet Ellie and her husband. Sam’s the Director of Obstetrics at the base hospital and fell in love with Lighthouse Bay too. And Ellie, of course.’ She smiled at the thought. ‘Sam moved here from a big Brisbane Hospital so we’re lucky to have him as an unofficial back-up in real emergencies when he’s not on-call at the base hospital.’
She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I’ve thought of someone who could mind Piper, if you’re interested.’
His face went blank and she hesitated. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet.
‘I’ll need to find someone eventually,’ he managed but she could see it cost him. She wished she hadn’t mentioned it now.
Then he said more firmly, ‘Sure. That would be great. I need to start looking.’
Trina thought about Marni. She didn’t regret mentioning her, though. ‘She’s a doll. A natural mother. Her twins are six months old and she’s just registered for day care status.’
CHAPTER NINE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
FINN FELT HIS stomach drop. He wasn’t seeing the path or the ocean or the sky overhead. He shouldn’t have asked about day care. But something inside had dared him to. Something that wanted him to move on, as if he’d known he’d be catapulted into a decision if he put it out there. All his instincts wanted to draw back. Stop her telling him. Say he’d ask if he decided it was time. She’d understand. Not sure how he knew that but he believed in the truth of it.
Instead he said, ‘Would you recommend her?’
She looked at him thoughtfully. Kindly. ‘That’s tough because it’s not about me,’ she said gently, as if she could read his distress. Then she looked at Piper. ‘Marni could mind my child, if I had one.’ The tone was almost joking. He saw something that looked like pain flit across her face and remembered again there were people out there who did suffer as much as he did. People like Catrina. Left alone by the love of their life—without choice and unintentionally. Loss of love and no baby to hold like he did. Imagine life without Piper.
Catrina’s voice wasn’t quite steady but he could hear the struggle to make it so. It had been a very brave thing to say and he wanted to tell her that. Wanted to tell her that he understood. But still the coward inside him shied away from so much emotion.
Catrina said, ‘Maybe you could see if Piper likes her before you commit to work and see how she goes? Just an hour or two?’
‘That’s a good idea. Tell me about her.’
He saw her gaze into the distance, a soft smile on her face and a glimmer of distress, though this time he didn’t think it was for herself. ‘She’s a younger mum. Early twenties. She and her husband own the dry-cleaners in town but she’s a stay-at-home mum. Marni’s Mother Earth and the boys are six months old. Bundles of energy, healthy as all get-out, which is great because she nearly lost them at twenty-three weeks, and she spent a lot of time in hospital. As far as the midwives of Lighthouse Bay think, she’s a hero to us.’
He had to smile at that. ‘The Midwives of Lighthouse Bay. Sounds like a serial on TV.’
She laughed a little self-consciously and he regretted making light of the one stable thing she had in her life, hadn’t meant to embarrass her. ‘Don’t get me wrong. It’s another good ending to a story.’
Catrina seemed to relax. ‘It really was. Ellie’s husband, Sam, had been involved in research into preventing extreme premature birth in Brisbane, and thankfully he was here when she went into labour. Marni and Bob are a lovely couple who’d already lost an extremely premature baby daughter.’
Finn wasn’t so sure. She already had twins and he wanted someone who could concentrate on Piper. ‘How could she care for Piper as well?’ Finn was more uncertain now. ‘Sounds a bit hectic. She has twins and she’s doing day care?’
He caught Trina’s encouraging smile and suddenly saw how she could be a good midwife. Her empathy shone warm—he felt she understood and was reassuring him that he would conquer his fear of letting Piper out of his sight. All without putting on pressure. Encouraging him to test his own strength without expectations. Treating him like a woman in labour battling her own fear. Wow. She had it down pat.
Then she said, ‘She loves minding babies. And babies love her. Usually she’s minding them for free. We keep telling her she should become a midwife and I wouldn’t be surprised when the boys go to school if she’ll look at it. But, for now, she’s just starting up official day care.’
Absently he bent and stroked Piper’s leg at his side. ‘Maybe I could meet her before I talk to Dr Southwell? It’s a good idea to see if Piper likes her before I commit to work, though. You’ll have to give me her number.’
‘Or we could visit her. Meet her and her husband. See their house. They’re a lovely couple and live only a few doors up from you. In the blue pastel cottage.’
It was all happening too quickly. He could feel the panic build and squashed it down again. He could do this. Just not today.
Catrina touched his arm—the first time she had physically connected with him of her own volition—and again that frisson of awareness hummed where they touched. He glanced at her but her expression still showed only compassionate support. ‘It’s something to think about. Marni is just the one I know. There will be others when you’re ready.’
His relief made his shoulders sag. She must have seen it on his face. Was he that transparent? He’d have to work on his game face before he went back to work or his patients’ parents would run a mile.
He tried to make light of it. ‘I imagine every parent must feel like this when they have to go back to work. Torn.’
‘Absolutely. We see mums that can’t stay in hospital for one night after birth because they hate leaving the other child or children too much.’ She looked towards Piper and smiled. ‘I’d find it hard to leave Piper if she were mine.’
His face tightened. He could feel it. Some women could. Piper’s mother had no problem. And he’d be the one who had to break his daughter’s heart when the time came to tell the truth.
Catrina opened her mouth—he didn’t want to talk about Clancy—but all she said was, ‘The cave’s just around this next headland.’ He was glad she’d changed the subject.
The cave, when they arrived, curved back into the cliff and created an overhang half the size of his house. A few round boulders acted as seats for looking out over the ocean out of the sun. Or rain. Plenty of evidence suggested people had camped and made campfires there but on the whole it had stayed clean and cool, and dim towards the back. The sort of place young boys would love to go with their mates.
He could stand up in the cave easily and they stomped around in it for a few minutes before Catrina suggested they go the small distance further to the glade so Piper could be released from the backpack.
The glade, when they arrived, had a park bench and table at the edge of the slope down into the bowl-shaped dip of grass. The bright sunshine made the grass lime cordial-coloured and the thick bed of kikuyu and daisies felt softer and springier than he expected when he put Piper down to crawl. Because of the sloping sides of the bowl Piper tended to end up back in the lowest point in the middle even when she climbed the sides and he could feel his mouth twitching as she furrowed her brows and tried to work out what was happening.
He pulled a bright saucer-sized ball from her backpack and tossed it in the centre of the glade while Catrina set their picnic bag on the table and spread the cloth. Piper crawled to the ball and batted it. Of course it rolled back down the side to her again. She pushed it again and crowed when it rolled back again.
‘Clever girl,’ he said to his daughter, and ‘Clever girl,’ to Catrina, who grinned at him as she finished laying out their treats and came to sit next to him on the side of the grass hill. ‘I can’t remember when I last had a picnic,’ he said as he passed an arrowroot biscuit to Piper and took one of the apples for himself.
‘I know. Me either.’ She handed him the can of drink and took a sip of her own. Then he heard her sigh blissfully.
‘We couldn’t have had more beautiful weather this afternoon.’
‘A bit different to this morning.’
‘That’s the beauty of Lighthouse Bay. We’re temperate. Not too hot for long or too cold for long. Always leaning towards perfect weather.’
‘Always?’
Catrina laughed. ‘Well, no. We do have wild storms sometimes. That’s why I have shutters on my windows and doors. But not often.’
The afternoon passed in a desultory fashion and once, when Piper dozed off in his arms, he and Catrina lay side by side watching the clouds pass overhead in companionable silence. He’d never met anyone as restful as she was. It would have been so simple to slide closer and take her hand but the man who could have done that had broken a year ago.
An hour later, on the way home from their walk, he asked again about the exact location of the day care mum.
‘I could come with you to knock on the door? Maybe meeting the family would help?’
‘Just drop in?’ Despite his initial reluctance, he could see that an impromptu visit could be less orchestrated than one when they expected him. And he had Catrina to come with him to break the ice.
It made sense. Not fair perhaps, but this was his baby he was considering leaving in their care, and he wanted a true representation of the feeling of the household.
When the door opened to answer his knock, a smiling red-haired man answered. Past him they could hear the sound of a child squealing and the smell of a roast dinner drifted out to tantalise his nose. He hadn’t had an old-fashioned roast for years. His mouth watered.
‘Can I help you?’ Then the man saw Catrina and smiled beatifically. ‘Trina!’
‘Hello, Bob. How are you?’ The man stepped forward and hugged her and Finn was surprised.
When they stepped back from each other she said, ‘Something smells divine. Lucky you—Sunday roast.’
‘You’re welcome any time, Trina.’ He grinned and looked at her companion.
‘This is Finn Foley. He’s a friend and I told him about Marni offering childcare and—’ she indicated Piper ‘—he and Piper have just started looking.’ Finn glanced at Catrina. Took a second to savour that she’d claimed friendship. She really was his only friend here.
She still spoke to Bob. ‘I wondered if he could have a chat with Marni?’
‘Absolutely. Any friend of yours and all that.’ Bob grinned at Finn. ‘Come in. Marni? There’s a dad here looking for information about childcare.’
Finn liked the way he said that. To his wife, with deference, and that he wasn’t committing to anything. Just asking. His nerves settled a fraction as he followed Catrina, with Piper on his back, in the door.
The room had been divided into two, with a kitchen and lounge on one side and a wall with doors on the other. Bedrooms, he guessed, unlike his one-room cottage. An extension had been built out the back with a big play room that overlooked the tiny fenced garden. Everything sparkled; even the toys strewn on the floor in the play room caught the sunlight and looked new and well cared for. The family warmth in the little abode made the tension drop from his shoulders and his eyes met Trina’s in acknowledgement.
A young woman crossed to them, drying her hands on a tea towel. She too hugged Catrina, and her shy smile eased the tension in Finn’s stomach like magic. ‘Trina. Great to see you.’
‘This is Finn, Marni.’ She turned to help Finn extricate Piper from the backpack—which he was pretty darn good at, but he had to admit it was quicker with help. And he liked her touching him.
‘Nice to meet you, Finn. You live a few doors down, don’t you?’ she said as she held out her hand. They shook briefly and he liked that her fingers were cool and dry, her grip confident.
‘Welcome.’ She smiled at Piper, who now sat on his hip, then turned around and pointed to two boys as if introducing her to them not Finn. ‘The one on the left is Olly, and the cheekier one is Mikey.’ She looked at Piper. ‘And what is your name, beautiful?’
Previously fascinated by the smaller humans, Piper looked back at the lady’s face, realised everyone was looking at her and then she clutched at his neck and buried her face.
Finn rubbed her back. ‘Piper can be shy.’
‘Of course she can.’ Marni indicated the rear of the cottage. ‘Come and sit out on the deck at the back and we’ll show you the play area and I can answer your questions.
‘So Catrina told you I’ve started doing childcare?’ The smile Marni gave Catrina lit up her face. ‘The midwives are my cheer squad. They’re all champions up there. If it wasn’t for them and the younger Dr Southwell, we wouldn’t have our gorgeous boys.’
Finn looked at the two chubby-faced little boys, one sitting in a blue tub of a chair kicking his feet and the other lying on his back on the patterned play carpet with a red spiral rattle. The little boy—Finn thought it was Olly—began to screw his face up, dropped the rattle and began to rock until he rolled over and lay on his stomach. The mischievous chortle he let out at the feat made Finn smile.
‘Clever boy, Mikey,’ his dad said. So he’d got that wrong, Finn thought. And then Bob gestured to his wife. ‘I’ll finish the potatoes. You take our guests and Piper out and have a chat.’
Finn liked that too. He could see they were a team and, despite having two babies, the air of serenity as Marni smiled made his trepidations settle. This sort of calm atmosphere looked perfect for Piper to learn about other babies and new adults.
A heck of a lot different to the busy, efficient childcare he’d had her in before. But Piper still clung to him like one of the stripy shells on the side of a rock pool and he remembered the hard times at the big kindergarten when he’d tried to leave.
Marni pointed to a scrubbed wooden table and four sturdy chairs. Two highchairs took up the other spaces. They all sat down and Marni put a soft-sided squeaky farm book on the table in front of Piper without making a fuss of it.
‘I am looking for two more toddlers. That will give me enough to cover the wage of the girl working with my husband at the dry-cleaners and then there’s no rush for me to go back to work. I’m hoping to stay home for the next year at least. In a perfect world, I won’t go back to work until the boys go to school.’
She smiled calmly at Finn. ‘But we’ll see what happens.’
So a stable place, Finn was thinking, and he wondered, if he offered to pay twice the rate, would Marni consider having Piper by herself, at least at the beginning so the young mum wasn’t pushed by the demands of four children? Piper would benefit and money wasn’t a problem. Finding someone caring and kind for Piper would be priceless.
He tried to think of a question. ‘Catrina said you’ve just been registered. Having two babies seems intense to me. Piper can keep me busy and there’s only one of her.’
She glanced lovingly towards the two gurgling on the floor and then across at her husband. ‘I mind lots of children. Have always loved them and thought for a while we’d never be able to have any. But then the boys came along, though I spent a couple of months in hospital hanging onto them, so they are beyond precious.’
She shrugged ruefully. ‘I’m worried I might spoil them and want them to learn to share, not just with each other but with other children. Some extra income would help and my husband and I are both the eldest from big families. Our families are in Western Australia so we miss having lots of kids around.’
‘I guess childminding makes sense in that case.’
Piper reached out and picked up the book. Scrunched it with her inquisitive fingers. Barely audible squeaks erupted when she squeezed and a crooked smile tipped her mouth as she battled between shyness and delight.
All the adults looked at her fondly. ‘So, information-wise, what sort of minding were you looking for?’
‘I’ve been offered a position three days a week, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.’
Marni nodded. ‘Three is better than five for Piper. Especially in the beginning. Has she been in care before?’
‘Yes, poor baby, most of her life, when I worked. About fifty hours a week. But not for the last six weeks and she was becoming unhappy before that. I was thinking to start a half-day, as a trial, just until Piper gets used to it. If she gets too upset I’d probably not go back to work for a while.’ He shrugged his apology.
Apparently she didn’t need it. That serene smile drifted across her face. ‘Being adaptable is good around kids. One of the secrets. She’ll miss you if she’s had you to herself for six weeks.’ A quirked brow made that question.
‘I’m not even sure it’s what I’m ready to do.’
‘That’s fine. You’re fact-finding, which is very sensible.’
Well, he’d better glean some facts. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. He glanced at Catrina and she sat tranquilly beside him, lending moral support, not interrupting. Just there. It felt good not to be on his own through this. ‘What hours do you have available?’
Marni laughed. ‘As I haven’t started yet it’s hard to say. Big picture—Monday to Friday, no more than forty hours, but the hours are flexible. And I get to keep the weekends for the boys and Bob.’
‘Where would she sleep in the daytime?’
‘We’ve a little room next to the boys’ room. Bob put two new folding cots in there and I think it’ll work well. And I’ll supply all the food. No hardship to make for one more and that way nobody wants what others have.’
It all sounded too good to be true. Plus they lived a few doors away from his own house. Even in this short time Piper seemed relaxed here. He gently swung her off his lap, book still in her hands, and rested her bottom on the floor. Just to see if she’d go.
As soon as she hit the floor she dropped the book and crawled curiously towards the two little boys. Stopped about a body’s length away and sat up. The three tiny people all looked at each other.
The adults smiled and Finn felt the tension leave his shoulders. The gods, or Catrina, had saved him again.
‘What about if I go and talk to my prospective employer tomorrow? Perhaps leave Piper here just for an hour and see how she goes while I negotiate? Then we’ll all know more.’
‘Why don’t you make it two hours? That will be a quarter of the time of her next visit, if you decide to go ahead. Just to give her time to settle. And take the rush out of your appointment. She’ll be fine. It will give us all a chance to trial the fit.’
‘I think that sounds like a plan. Yes, please.’ Finn stood up. Blew out a breath. ‘Phew. Thank you. I do feel better for asking and talking to you. That would be great.’ He glanced at Catrina, who stood as well. She smiled at him as if he’d just done an excellent job. It felt good. Reassuring.
Marni went across to the dresser and picked up a business card. ‘Here’s our phone number, and it’s got my mobile on it as well. You can ring or drop in when you know your time. The sheet has information about my business.’ She handed him a sheet of paper with her numbers and the payment rates. Easy.
‘That’s great.’ He picked up Piper, who had crawled over to him as soon as he stood up. She didn’t cling, more curious than panicked he’d leave her. ‘I’ll leave one of my own cards when I bring Piper. Then you can contact me any time.’
‘Give yourself ten extra minutes before you leave her tomorrow. To help her settle.’
He nodded. Then Bob came and shook his hand. Then they were outside and the door closed.
He felt like sagging against it. He’d done it. Another step towards a new life.
‘You didn’t say much.’
Catrina laughed. ‘I didn’t have to. You’re all made for each other.’
CHAPTER TEN (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA’S FIRST MORNING as Midwifery Unit Manager, and her first day shift for a long time, proved too busy to worry about a man she’d met on the beach and declared her friend. Though she had spent a fair time mulling over all the things she’d learnt about Finn the night before.
This morning, in her new world, the midwife coming off shift had celebrated a birth at five a.m., so still lots of settling of mother and baby for Trina to help with before mother left at lunchtime to go home. Another mother who preferred to rest at home, not separated from her toddler, and it made her think of her conversation with Finn yesterday. Finn again. She pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on the new tasks.
There were Monday pharmacy orders and sterile stock orders, and a hospital meeting and a visit from Myra, her neighbour, which lightened a busy time with a quick break.
‘Hello there, new midwife in charge.’ Myra’s serene face peered around the corner of the nurses’ station, where Trina typed efficiently into the discharged mother’s electronic medical records.
‘Hello, Mrs Southwell, what have you got there?’ Myra had a steaming cup and a white paper bag tucked under her arm. Ellie had said that Myra always brought something when the place got busy.
‘A long black with extra water, the way you like it.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘And a savoury tart with spring onion in case you haven’t had lunch.’
Trina glanced at the clock, the hour hand resting on the two. ‘An angel. That’s what you are.’ Though she would pack lunch tomorrow to make sure she had something. She hadn’t realised how hard it could be to get away from the ward to the cafeteria. She’d expected that on night duty but not through the day.
Myra tilted her head to scrutinise her. ‘Have you had time to stop for a few minutes?’
Trina sat back and gestured to the chair beside her. ‘Not yet. But I do now. And I will.’ She took the china mug Myra carried and took a sip before she put it down on the desk beside her. ‘Ah!’ She smiled at the older lady. ‘I seriously needed that.’ She looked at the mug again and picked it up. Took another sip and closed her eyes. ‘The world won’t stop turning if I don’t achieve everything today.’
Myra laughed. ‘Something I’ve learnt since I came here. So how is it going? Is it strange to be on the ward in the daytime?’
Trina glanced around the sunlit reception area. The windows that showed the gardens. The sunlight slanting across the polished wooden floors. ‘It is. And there are so many people I need to talk to.’ She pretended to shudder. ‘Business requirements have given me interaction overload. Present company excluded, of course.’
‘I won’t be offended.’ Myra looked at her with concern. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer sitting in the tea room and I could answer the phone for you while you finish your tart?’
Trina laughed. ‘No. This is a social conversation. Much more fun. Besides, I haven’t seen you for days. How are you? How is married life? Any adventurous plans?’
‘I’m well. Ridiculously content, and I’m trying to talk Reg into coming away with me on a cruising holiday. There’s a last-minute deal that’s breaking my heart not to take.’
Trina could see Myra at a Captain’s Cocktail Party, dressed to the nines in those stunning vintage outfits she seemed to source at will. Trina could never find anything when she looked in the pre-loved section. Or if she did she looked ridiculous. But Myra looked soft and elegant and stunningly stylish. She sighed and let the envy go. She hadn’t really thought much of clothes since Ed. ‘That sounds fun. Does he like the idea?’
‘More than I thought he would. But it all depends if he finds locum relief for the practice. I’m a little keen for him to scale right back but he’s become immersed in the bay and the hospital.’
Trina could see why Myra wanted to play. ‘I haven’t seen him out on his surfboard lately.’
‘He still goes out every Sunday with his son. It’s lovely to see. Says he doesn’t have the need to get out of bed at the crack of dawn now—especially with me in it.’ Myra smiled with just a hint of pink in her cheeks and Trina smiled back.
‘Understandable.’ She thought of Finn. Her own cheeks heated and she dipped her head and took a sip from her mug to hide it. Of course he was the locum Myra hoped for, and of course she wasn’t blushing just because of Myra’s mention of mornings in bed. ‘Is he hopeful of the locum situation?’
Myra sighed. ‘There’s a young doctor in town he’s had a chat with. Some family issue that’s keeping him from starting, but hopefully that will sort soon. If not, I think he should advertise.’
‘I met the one I think he’s talking about. Finlay Foley. He’s a single dad. Has a delightful little one-year-old.’
Myra unwrapped the tart from its white paper bag and pushed it towards Trina. ‘That’s the one. That’s right—Reg said he had a daughter. What’s he like?’
‘He’s an amazing dad. Anyone can see that. It’s a wonder you haven’t seen him walking along the beach with his little girl on his back.’
Myra’s eyes brightened. She lifted her head in delight and glanced towards the general direction of the beach way below, though she wouldn’t be able to see it. ‘Oh. I have seen him. Younger than I expected. I didn’t think of him as a doctor. Looks too young.’ She lowered her voice and said suggestively, ‘And handsome.’
Trina laughed. ‘I used to see them in the mornings after work when I walked. Been here for a month but I’ve only really talked to him this weekend.’ Funny how it felt as if she’d known Finn for ages. What was that? ‘His little girl turned one yesterday. And I did mention Marni as a suggestion for childminding. He’s thinking about it.’
‘Oh, that’s marvellous news. And a really good idea. Marni is the perfect mother to those tiny boys. I might get Reg to give him a nudge—not a big nudger is my Reg. But I would like to catch that sailing if possible.’
Trina laughed. ‘You might have a surprise when you get home, then.’ She picked up the tart and bit into the buttery pastry with slow enjoyment. The tang of Parmesan cheese, fresh spring onions and cream made her eyes roll. She took another bite and savoured. Before she knew, the tart was gone. ‘Goodness, Myra. I should have a standing order for those.’
Myra laughed. ‘My man is a bit pleased with my cooking.’
Trina picked up her coffee and then paused as a thought intruded. If Finn took over Dr Southwell’s practice while he was away, he’d be working in the hospital. And he’d probably walk through Maternity. Might even seek her out as a friendly face. Not that everyone wasn’t friendly at Lighthouse Bay. Maybe he’d even come over if they needed a third for a tricky birth. Their own personal paediatrician.
Her belly seemed to warm and it had nothing to do with food and hot coffee, though they had been good. She finished the last of the coffee not quite in the present moment. It was all positive because he was a paediatrician. Good for those babies that didn’t breathe as well as you expected them to. Oh, my.
‘You look much better for stopping and eating,’ Myra said with some satisfaction. She stood up. ‘I won’t bother you any longer and let you get on before your afternoon midwives come on.’
‘You’re never a bother. More of a life-saver. Thank you.’ She glanced down at the empty crumpled white bag. ‘You’ve made my day.’ In more ways than one.
* * *
Trina finished work at five-thirty that evening and decided to walk quickly down the breakwall and blow the stress of the day away. The administration side of the maternity unit would take a little time to get used to but she’d mastered most of the things that had slowed her up. The joy of finishing work and not having to worry about sleep until it was dark felt like a sweet novelty. Especially when, on her way back, she saw that Finn and Piper, wrapped in scarves, were walking too. Finn swung along effortlessly, the bundle on his back wriggling when she saw Catrina.
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Fiona McArthur
Jennifer Taylor
About the Authors (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
FIONA MCARTHUR is an Australian midwife who lives in the country and loves to dream. Writing Medical Romance gives Fiona the scope to write about all the wonderful aspects of romance, adventure, medicine and the midwifery she feels so passionate about. When she’s not catching babies, Fiona is with her husband, Ian, off to meet new people, see new places and have wonderful adventures. Drop in and say hi at Fiona’s website: Fionamcarthurauthor.com (http://www.Fionamcarthurauthor.com).
JENNIFER TAYLOR has written for several different Mills & Boon series, but it wasn’t until she ‘discovered’ Medical Romances that she found her true niche. Jennifer loves the blend of modern romance and exciting medical drama. Widowed, she divides her time between homes in Lancashire and the Lake District. Her hobbies include reading, walking, travelling and spending time with her two gorgeous grandchildren.
Also By Fiona McArthur
Gold Coast Angels: Two Tiny Heartbeats
Christmas with Her Ex
Christmas in Lyrebird Lake miniseries
Midwife’s Christmas Proposal
Midwife’s Mistletoe Baby
The Midwives of Lighthouse Bay miniseries
A Month to Marry the Midwife
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss
Also By Jennifer Taylor
One More Night with Her Desert Prince…
Best Friend to Perfect Bride
Miracle Under the Mistletoe
The Greek Doctor’s Secret Son
Reawakened by the Surgeon’s Touch
The Larches Practice miniseries
The Boss Who Stole Her Heart
Bride for the Single Dad
Reunited by Their Baby
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss
Fiona McArthur
Reunited by Their Baby
Jennifer Taylor
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09571-6
HEALED BY THE MIDWIFE’S KISS & REUNITED BY THEIR BABY
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss © 2018 Fiona McArthur Reunited by Their Baby © 2018 Jennifer Taylor
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Cover (#uc5d76c04-3f79-5248-a036-f72811d8962c)
About the Authors (#u019aa339-a241-53c6-a8d4-d3dcb11d1976)
Booklist (#u4704dd4d-03d8-5792-be48-9bed07139cb1)
Title Page (#ua0c81620-edf2-5de9-989d-5472e60d513b)
Copyright (#u122354dc-8f53-5f9d-87e0-d7d802b47797)
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss (#ud0c28e64-5c85-539f-9344-55f6b9bba0d4)
Back Cover Text (#u173b439c-4112-532d-9d73-22cb2ae1ffe9)
Dedication (#uf15aac48-3418-5375-8e84-5cd782d8e963)
PROLOGUE (#ufdaf4a75-0cc7-5b7d-8f59-83be486684de)
CHAPTER ONE (#u0a25e00c-ddf3-5620-ba06-54b4c32ac890)
CHAPTER TWO (#u3d1b7ee8-89c1-5d1e-a8e8-845a4a5d90d2)
CHAPTER THREE (#u37ed0771-8840-5e5b-b8fb-8fde9c177abb)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u2b9821f8-5106-5828-a319-93656279e7ea)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u978f2b77-65e9-515b-9b90-f0ef2bab4890)
CHAPTER SIX (#uac885911-83f1-56c4-88b3-35f24ed6ba2c)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u391291ca-2bdf-5258-bb70-2e188d926c09)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ude90d160-db51-56cb-91a8-17369c04278c)
CHAPTER NINE (#u0f6060c9-1e3b-5f47-a98c-2fe3e2bd3dee)
CHAPTER TEN (#u7d75711e-6559-56ba-8fc0-68650bfa0756)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Reunited by Their Baby (#litres_trial_promo)
Back Cover Text (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Healed by the Midwife’s Kiss (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Fiona McArthur
Finn can’t imagine loving anyone again...
But could one woman change that forever?
After Dr. Finn Foley’s wife abandoned him and their adorable baby daughter, he threw himself into being a father. But when he meets a kindred spirit in widowed midwife Catrina Thomas, he can’t resist getting to know her better. One sizzling kiss later, the happiness Finn has been searching for finally seems within his grasp...if only he’s willing to claim it!
Dedicated to Finn, author Kelly Hunter’s legend of a four-legged friend, who went to doggy heaven while I was writing this book.
It just seemed right to say there are Finn heroes everywhere.
Vale Finn.
PROLOGUE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
AT SIX A.M. on a Thursday, Lighthouse Bay’s maternity ward held its breath. Midwife Catrina Thomas leaned forward and rubbed the newborn firmly with a warmed towel. The limp infant flexed and wriggled his purple limbs and finally took a gasping indignant lungful.
The baby curled his hands into fists as his now tense body suffused with pink. ‘Yours now, Craig. Take him.’ She gestured to the nervous dad beside her and mimed what to do as she encouraged Craig’s big callused hands to gently lift the precious bundle. One huge splashing silver tear dropped to the sheet from his stubbled cheek as he placed his new son on his wife’s warm bare stomach.
Craig released a strangled sob and his wife, leaning back on the bed in relief, half laughed in triumph, then closed her hands over her child and her husband’s hands and pulled both upwards to lie between her breasts.
For Catrina, it was this moment. This snapshot in time she identified as her driver, the reason she felt she could be a midwife for ever—this and every other birth moment that had come before. It gave her piercing joy when she’d thought she’d lost all gladness, and it gave her bittersweet regret for the dreams she’d lost. But mostly, definitely, it gave her joy.
An hour later Catrina hugged her boss awkwardly, because Ellie’s big pregnant belly bulged in the way as they came together, but no less enthusiastically because she would miss seeing her friend in the morning before she finished her shift. ‘I can’t believe it’s your last day.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Or my last night shift tomorrow.’
‘Neither can I.’ Ellie’s brilliant smile lit the room even more than the sunlight streaming in through the maternity ward windows.
Trina marvelled at the pure happiness that radiated from a woman who had blossomed, and not just in belly size but in every way in just one year of marriage. Another reason Trina needed to change her life and move on. She wanted what Ellie had.
A family and a life outside work. She would have the latter next week when she took on Ellie’s job as Midwifery Unit Manager for Ellie’s year of maternity leave.
She’d have daylight hours to see the world and evenings to think about going out for dinner with the not infrequent men who had asked her. The excuse of night shift would be taken out of her grasp. Which was a good thing. She’d hidden for two years and the time to be brave had arrived.
She stepped back from Ellie, picked up her bag and blew her a kiss. ‘Happy last day. I’ll see you at your lunch tomorrow.’ Then she lifted her chin and stepped out of the door into the cool morning.
The tangy morning breeze promised a shower later, and pattering rain on the roof on a cool day made diving into bed in the daylight hours oh, so much more attractive than the usual sunny weather of Lighthouse Bay. Summer turning to autumn was her favourite time of year. Trina turned her face into the salty spray from the sea as she walked down towards the beach.
She slept better if she walked before going up the hill to her croft cottage, even if just a quick dash along the breakwall path that ran at right angles to the beach.
Especially after a birth. Her teeth clenched as she sucked in the salty air and tried not to dwell on the resting mother lying snug and content in the ward with her brand-new pink-faced baby.
Trina looked ahead to the curved crescent of the beach as she swung down the path from the hospital. The sapphire blue of the ocean stretching out to the horizon where the water met the sky, her favourite contemplation, and, closer, the rolling waves crashing and turning into fur-like foam edges that raced across the footprint-free sand to sink in and disappear.
Every day the small creek flowing into the ocean changed, the sandbars shifting and melding with the tides. The granite boulders like big seals set into the creek bed, lying lazily and oblivious to the shifting sand around them. Like life, Trina thought whimsically. You could fight against life until you realised that the past was gone and you needed to wait to see what the next tide brought. If only you could let go.
Ahead she saw that solitary dad. The one with his little girl in the backpack, striding along the beach with those long powerful strides as he covered the distance from headland to headland. Just like he had every morning she’d walked for the last four weeks. A tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man with a swift stride.
Sometimes the two were draped in raincoats, sometimes his daughter wore a cheery little hat with pom-poms. Sometimes, like today, they both wore beanies and a scarf.
Trina shivered. She could have done with a scarf. When she was tired it was easy to feel the cold. It would be good to move to day shifts after almost two bleak years on nights, but falling into bed exhausted in the daytime had been preferable to the dread of lying lonely and alone in the small dark hours.
She focused on the couple coming towards her. The little girl must have been around twelve months old, and seemed to be always gurgling with laughter, her crinkled eyes, waving fists and gap-toothed smile a delight to start the day with. The father, on the other hand, smiled with his mouth only when he barely lifted his hand but his storm-blue eyes glittered distant and broken beneath the dark brows. Trina didn’t need to soak in anyone else’s grief.
They all guessed about his story because, for once, nobody had gleaned any information and shared it with the inhabitants of Lighthouse Bay.
They drew closer and passed. ‘Morning.’ Trina inclined her head and waved at the little girl who, delightfully, waved back with a toothy chuckle.
‘Morning,’ the father said and lifted the corner of his lips before he passed.
And that was that for another day. Trina guessed she knew exactly how he felt. But she was changing.
CHAPTER ONE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
AT SEVEN-THIRTY A.M. on the golden sands of Lighthouse Bay Beach Finlay Foley grimaced at the girl as she went past. Always in the purple scrubs so he knew she was one of the midwives from the hospital. A midwife. Last person he wanted to talk to.
It had been a midwife, one who put her face close to his and stared at him suspiciously, who told him his wife had left their baby and him behind, and ran away.
But the dark-haired girl with golden glints in her hair never invaded his space. She exuded a gentle warmth and empathy that had begun to brush over him lightly like a consistent warm beam of sunlight through leaves. Or like that soft shaft of light that reached into a corner of his cottage from the lighthouse on the cliff by some bizarre refraction. And always that feather-stroke of compassion without pity in her brown-eyed glance that thawed his frozen soul a little more each day when they passed.
She always smiled and so did he. But neither of them stopped. Thank goodness.
Piper gurgled behind his ear and he tilted his head to catch her words. ‘Did you say something, Piper?’
‘Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum.’
Finn felt the tightness crunch his sternum as if someone had grabbed his shirt and dug their nails into his chest. Guilt. Because he hadn’t found her. He closed his eyes for a second. Nothing should be this hard. ‘Try Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad,’ he said past the tightness in his throat.
Obediently Piper chanted in her musical little voice, ‘Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.’
‘Clever girl.’ His mouth lifted this time and he felt a brief piercing of warmth from another beam of light in his cave-like existence.
Which was why he’d moved here. To make himself shift into the light. For Piper. And it did seem to be working. Something about this place, this haven of ocean and sand and cliffs and smiling people like the morning midwife soothed his ragged nerves and restored his faith in finding a way into the future.
A future he needed to create for Piper. Always the jolliest baby, now giggling toddler and all-round ray of puppy-like delight, Piper had kept him sane mainly because he had to greet each day to meet her needs.
His sister had said Piper had begun to look sad. Suspected she wasn’t happy in the busy day care. Didn’t see enough of her dad when he worked long hours. And he’d lifted his head and seen what his sister had seen.
Piper had been clingy. Harder to leave when he dropped her off at the busy centre. Drooping as he dressed her for ‘school’ in the morning. Quiet when he picked her up ten hours later.
Of course he needed to get a life and smile for his daughter. So he’d listened when his sister suggested he take a break from the paediatric practice where he’d continued as if on autopilot. Maybe escape to a place one of her friends had visited recently, where he knew no one, and heal for a week or two, or even a month for his daughter’s sake. Maybe go back part-time for a while and spend more time with Piper. So he’d come. Here. To Lighthouse Bay.
Even on the first day it had felt right, just a glimmer of a breakthrough in the darkness, and he’d known it had been a good move.
The first morning in the guesthouse, when he’d walked the beach with Piper on his back, he’d felt a stirring of the peace he had found so elusive in his empty, echoing, accusing house. Saw the girl with the smile. Said, ‘Good morning.’
After a few days he’d rented a cottage just above the beach for a week to avoid the other boisterous guests—happy families and young lovers he didn’t need to talk to at breakfast—and moved to a place more private and offering solitude, but the inactivity of a rented house had been the exact opposite to what he needed.
Serendipitously, the cottage next door to that had come up for sale—Would suit handyman—which he’d never been. He was not even close to handy. Impulsively, after he’d discussed it with Piper, who had smiled and nodded and gurgled away his lack of handyman skills with great enthusiasm, he’d bought it. Then and there. The bonus of vacant possession meant an immediate move in even before the papers were signed.
He had a holiday house at the very least and a home if he never moved back to his old life. Radical stuff for a single parent, escaped paediatrician, failed husband, and one who had been used to the conveniences of a large town.
The first part of the one big room he’d clumsily beautified was Piper’s corner and she didn’t mind the smudges here and there and the chaos of spackle and paint tins and drip sheets and brushes.
Finally, he’d stood back with his daughter in his arms and considered he might survive the next week and maybe even the one after that. The first truly positive achievement he’d accomplished since Clancy left.
Clancy left.
How many times had he tried to grasp that fact? His wife of less than a year had walked away. Run, really. Left him, left her day-old daughter, and disappeared. With another man, if the private investigator had been correct. But still a missing person. Someone who in almost twelve months had never turned up in a hospital, or a morgue, or on her credit card. He had even had the PI check if she was working somewhere but that answer had come back as a no. And his sister, who had introduced them, couldn’t find her either.
Because of the note she’d given the midwives, the police had only been mildly interested. Hence the PI.
Look after Piper. She’s yours. Don’t try to find me. I’m never coming back.
That was what the note had said. The gossip had been less direct. He suspected what the questions had been. Imagined what the midwives had thought. Why did his wife leave him? What did he do to her? It must have been bad if she left her baby behind...
The ones who knew him well shook their heads and said, She’d liked her freedom too much, that one.
At first he’d been in deep shock. Then denial. She’d come back. A moment’s madness. She’d done it before. Left for days. With the reality of a demanding newborn and his worry making it hard for him to sleep at all, his work had suffered. But his largest concern had been the spectre of Clancy with an undiagnosed postnatal depression. Or, worse, the peril of a postnatal psychosis. What other reason could she have for leaving so suddenly so soon after the birth?
Hence he’d paid the private investigator, because there were no forensic leads—the police were inundated with more important affairs than flighty wives. But still no word. All he could do was pray she was safe, at least.
So life had gone on. One painful questioning new morning after another. Day after day with no relief. He hadn’t been able to do his job as well as he should have and he’d needed a break from it all.
Buying the cottage had been a good move. Piper stood and cheered him on in her cot when he was doing something tricky, something that didn’t need to have a lively little octopus climb all over him while he did it, and she waved her fists and gurgled and encouraged him as he learnt to be a painter. Or a carpenter. Or a tiler.
Or a cook. Or a cleaner. Or a dad.
He was doing okay.
He threw a last look out over the beach towards the grey sea and turned for home. ‘That’s our walk done for this morning, chicken. Let’s go in and have breakfast. Then you can have a sleep and Daddy will grout those tiles in the shower so we can stop having bird baths in the sink.’
Piper loved the shower. Finn did too. When he held her soft, squirming satin baby skin against his chest, the water making her belly laugh as she ducked her head in and out of the stream always made him smile. Sometimes even made him laugh.
So he’d spent extra time on the shower. Adding tiles with animals, starfish, moon shapes and flowers, things they could talk about and keep it a happy place for Piper. And he’d made a square-tiled base with a plug. Soon she could have a little bath. One she could splash in even though it was only the size of the shower.
Doing things for Piper kept him sane. He didn’t need the psychologist his sister said he did, or the medication his brother-in-law recommended. Just until he’d climbed out of the hole he’d dug himself to hide in, he would stay here. In Lighthouse Bay. Where nobody pointed or pitied him and every corner didn’t hold a memory that scraped like fingernails on the chalkboard of his heavy heart.
Except that around the next corner his heart froze for a millisecond to see the morning midwife crouched on the path in front of him.
He quickened his pace. ‘Are you okay?’
She turned to look up at him, cradling something brightly coloured against her chest, and with the shift of her shoulders he saw the bird cupped in her hands. ‘She flew into that window and knocked herself out.’
The lorikeet, blue-headed with a red and yellow chest, lay limp with lime-green wings folded back in her hands. A most flaccid bird.
Still, the red beak and chest shuddered gently so it wasn’t dead. ‘How do you know it’s a girl?’ He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. But he’d actually thought it was her that had been hurt and relief had made him stupid.
She must have thought he was stupid too. ‘I didn’t actually lift her legs and look. Not really of major importance, is it?’
Just a little bit of impatience and, surprisingly, it was good to be at the receiving end of a bit of healthy sarcasm. So much better than unending sympathy.
He held up his hands in surrender and Piper’s voice floated over both of them from his back. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad!’
The girl sucked in her breath and he could see her swan-like neck was tinged with pink. ‘Sorry. Night duty ill temper.’
‘My bad. All mine. Stupid thing to say. Can you stand up? It’s tricky to crouch down with Piper on my back. Let’s have a look at her.’
The morning midwife rose fluidly, calves of steel obviously; even he was impressed with her grace—must be all those uphill walks she did. ‘She’s not fluttering her wings,’ she said, empathy lacing a voice that, had it not been agitated, would have soothed the bird. He shook himself. She was just being a typical midwife. That was how most of them had spoken to him when Clancy had disappeared.
‘Still breathing.’ He stroked the soft feathers as the bird lay in her small hands. ‘She’s limp, but I think if you put her in a box for a couple of hours in the dark, she’ll rouse when she’s had a sleep to get over the shock.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘I do. She’s not bleeding. Just cover the box with a light cloth so she can let you know she can fly away when she’s ready.’
‘Do I have to put food or water in there?’
‘Not food. A little water as long as she doesn’t fall into it and drown.’ He grimaced at another stupid comment.
She grinned at him and suddenly the day was much brighter than it had been. ‘Are you a vet?’
‘No.’
‘Just a bird wrangler?’
She was a stunner. He stepped back. ‘One of my many talents. I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Bye.’
She looked at him oddly. Not surprising. He was odd. He walked on up the hill.
Her voice followed him. ‘Bye, Piper.’ He heard Piper chuckle.
CHAPTER TWO (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA FINISHED HER night shift at seven a.m. on Friday and picked up her mini-tote to sling it on her shoulder. Her last night done, except for emergencies, and she did a little skip as she came out of the door. At first, she’d been reluctant to take the night shift to day shift change that Ellie had offered her because change could be scary, but it had started the whole paradigm inversion that her life had needed. Look out daylight. Here she comes.
Yes. She’d come a long way in almost two years since Ed had died.
Not just because on Monday morning she’d return as acting Midwifery Unit Manager, an unexpected positive career move for Trina at Lighthouse Bay Maternity.
But things had changed.
Her grief stayed internal, or only rarely escaped under her pillow when she was alone in her croft on the cliff.
And since Ellie’s wedding last year she’d begun to think that maybe, some time in the future, she too could look at being friends with a man. If the right one came along.
Not a relationship yet. That idea had been so terrifying, almost like PTSD—the fear of imagining what if history repeated itself; what if that immense pain of loss and grief hit her again? What then?
She’d been catatonic with that thought and to divert herself she’d begun to think of all the other things that terrified her. She’d decided to strengthen her Be Brave muscle.
Last week she’d had her first scuba lesson. Something that had fascinated but petrified her since she’d watched the movie Finding Nemo with the daughter of a friend. And in the sparkling cove around the corner from Lighthouse Bay the kindly instructor had been so reassuring, so patient, well... Maybe she’d go back on Saturday for another lesson.
And when she’d mastered that she was going out on a day of deep-sea fishing. The captain’s wife had not long delivered a late-in-life baby and Trina had been the midwife. Even though he’d fainted again, he’d promised her a day of deep-sea fishing when he felt better. She’d bought seasickness bands and stored them in her drawer just in case.
She wasn’t sure about the parachuting. The girls at work had all joined the idea factory and brochures and social media tags of extreme sports and adventure holidays appeared like magic in her pigeonhole and on her private page. Parachuting? She didn’t think so but she’d worry about that later.
Her aim to do one challenge a month seemed possible to allay the fear that she was relying on work to be her whole world. Though not too adventurous—she didn’t want to kill herself. Not now.
Her friends were cheering. Thinking of the midwives of Lighthouse Bay...well, that made her whole world warm into a rosy glow. A fiercely loyal flotsam of women tossed here by the fickle cruelty of life, forging into a circle of hands supporting birthing women and each other. All acutely aware of how fortunate they were to have found the magic of the bay.
There was something healing about that crescent of sand that led to the cliffs.
A mystical benevolence about the soaring white lighthouse on the tallest point that looked benignly over the tiny hamlet of coloured houses and shone reassuring light.
And the pretty pastel abodes like a quaint European seaside town were a delight, a new trend that had taken off with the gentle crayon façades dipping in colour like playful toes into the sea.
Crazy coloured houses, and if she could do all those crazy-coloured feats of bravery then just maybe she could be brave enough to begin a real conversation with a man. Like yesterday. She’d almost forgotten the handsome dad was a man when she’d snapped at him. They’d almost had a whole conversation. She wouldn’t mind another one so he didn’t think she was a short-tempered shrew but she had been concerned about the bird. The one that had flown away two hours later, just like he said it would.
If she could talk to a man she could try again to go out with one. At least once. She’d been turning them down for six months now. None of them had been Ed.
Now there were more midwives around to lessen the on-call restrictions. Four new midwives had come on board to swell their ranks with the shift to a midwife-led unit. They still had old Dr Southwell in the hospital for non-maternity patients and maternity emergencies, but all the midwives had moved to four days of ten-hour shifts and caring for a caseload of women, so suddenly there was more time for life with an extra day free and people to cover you if needed. And she’d scored the admin side Monday to Thursday, daylight hours, for a year. Starting Monday. Imagine.
So she’d better get out there and grab that exciting life before it drifted past in a haze of regrets. She lifted her head and sucked in a pure lungful of gorgeous sea air.
Without realising it her feet had followed the well-beaten path down to the beach and just as she turned to start her morning breakwall walk she saw the dad and his little girl come up off the beach.
He looked happier today. Nice. It made her smile warmer. ‘Beautiful morning.’
He looked startled for a minute. ‘Yes, it is.’ Almost as if he was surprised. ‘Good morning—how is your bird?’
‘Flew away two hours later. Didn’t look any worse for wear.’
He gave her the first real smile she’d seen. ‘That’s good.’
Then he was past. Trina turned her head to glance back and the little fair-haired girl waved.
Trina smiled and yawned. She should go to bed and get a couple of hours’ sleep before Ellie’s farewell lunch. Just a quick walk.
CHAPTER THREE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
THE EARLY-MORNING BREEZE off the ocean seemed cooler. The water had taken till now to shine like a jewel. She’d been late this morning. Finn had waited a minute, hoping she wouldn’t see him do it, and strangely the minute seemed to take for ever, then he’d looked back. He’d been thinking of her last night. Wondering if she were sad about a dead bird or happy when it flew away.
He thought back to her response. Now that was a smile. He could see it in his retina like a glance at the sun. Warm and glowing. Saw her walking quite a way in the distance—she’d moved fast. He’d noticed that before, that her pace ran to brisk rather than dawdling. Nurses often did walk briskly. Couldn’t seem to slow themselves enough to meander even on a seaside walk. He tore his eyes away.
He’d done the breakwall walk she did a couple of times when he’d first come here but he liked the effort of walking through the sand with Piper on his back. If nothing else he’d become fit and tanned and physically healthier here in a month. And Piper too had sun-kissed limbs and sparkling eyes that exuded health.
His sister would be pleased when she came today. His first visitor. He shied away from that intrusion into his safe world and thought again of the young midwife. Maybe not so young because he’d seen the signs of loss and life in her big coffee eyes—even in those brief glances they’d shot at each other. For the first time he wondered if other people had suffered as much as he had? Well, that at least seemed a positive sign that he could reconnect with his inherent compassion that he’d seemed to have lost.
The thought made him wonder what it would be like to talk to someone who could actually begin to understand his hell, and then called himself crazy for making up a past about someone he didn’t know. Poor woman probably had never had a sad day in her life. But something told him otherwise.
* * *
Just before one p.m. his sister stepped out of her red convertible and through his front gate. ‘It’s beautiful, Finn. I can’t believe you’ve done all this yourself!’ Her perfectly pencilled brows were raised as she gazed at the pale pink external walls of the house and the rose-red door.
He’d been a little surprised himself. And the front path bordered by pansies and baby’s breath looked as if it belonged to some older lady with a green thumb—not a guilt-deranged paediatrician running from life.
She rocked her head slowly. He’d expected disbelief but not this patent incredulity. He felt strangely offended. ‘I didn’t even know you like to garden!’
He shrugged, urging her towards the door. ‘Neither did I. But Piper loves being outside and we needed to do something while we’re out here.’
Frances rubbernecked her way up the path, nice and slow for the neighbours, he thought dryly, and sighed while she gushed. She gushed when she didn’t know what to say, though what the problem was he had no idea.
‘And the house. Freshly painted? You actually painted?’ She glanced around. ‘Pastel like the others in the street. It’s gorgeous.’
Finn looked at the stucco walls. They’d been a pain to paint. ‘Piper chose the colour. I would have preferred a blue but, given the choice, she went for pink every time. Never thought I’d have a stereotypical daughter.’
Frances laughed and waved her hand dismissively. ‘Piper’s too young to choose.’
‘No, she’s not,’ he said mildly. ‘How can you say it’s not her choice if I give her four colours and she keeps choosing pink?’
Frances looked at him as if he needed a big dose of sympathy for his feeble brain. ‘You didn’t pretend she was choosing?’
‘Who else was I going to ask?’ He heard the edge in his voice. And his sister shut up. So then he felt mean.
It was always like this. On and on until he shut her down. She meant well, but for heaven’s sake. He wanted her gone already.
They finally made it to the front door.
In an attempt to lighten the mood he stopped to show her something else. ‘Piper helped everywhere.’ He kissed the top of his daughter’s head as she perched on his hip. Quiet for a change because she hadn’t quite found her ease with her aunt. Or maybe she was picking up Finn’s nervous vibes. Either way she leaned into him, unusually subdued.
He pointed to a handprint on the front step that he’d finished with instant cement. Using a layer of cling wrap over the wet surface, he’d pressed her starfish hand into the step on each side while holding her clamped to his side. The little palm prints made him smile every time he opened the door.
‘Come in.’ He heard the pride in his voice and mocked himself. Finn the decorator. ‘There’s still the kitchen and laundry, but I’ve finished Piper’s corner, the bathroom and the floating boards on the floor because she’ll need a solid surface to learn to walk on.’
Frances rotated her neck, as if stuck to the step and that was the only part of her body she could move. ‘It’s tiny.’
He frowned. ‘Yes. It’s a beach cottage. Not a mansion.’
She blinked. Shifted uneasily. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. But your other beautiful house...’
‘Is on the market.’
Now the shock was real. Frances had approved mightily of his imposing residence on top of the hill. Two hills over from her imposing residence. He’d only liked it because Clancy, his missing wife, had loved it.
Frances spluttered, ‘You’re buying a new house?’
‘I’ve bought a new house.’ He put out one hand and gestured. ‘This house. I’m staying here.’
‘I... I thought you’d done this for the owners. That you rented?’
‘I am the owner.’ A little too fierce, Finn, he chided himself.
Frances leaned towards him pleadingly. ‘But your work?’
‘Will be here too when I’m ready. One of the GPs here has offered me a place in his practice when I’m ready. I’ll specialise in children but do all the GP stuff I’ve almost forgotten. It’ll be good.’ He wasn’t sure who he was convincing, Frances or himself. ‘It won’t be yet because I’m in no hurry.’
‘But...’
‘But what?’
His sister turned worried eyes on his. ‘You were only supposed to come here for a few weeks and then come back. Come home.’
‘Home to where, Frances? To what? To an empty castle on a hill full of ghosts and pain. To a clinic with not enough hours in the day so I had to keep my daughter in long day care?’
Frances looked stricken and he leaned in and shared a hug with her, Piper still a limpet on his other hip. Frances meant well and she truly loved him. And now that Mum was gone she was all the family he had. Of course she’d never understood him with the ten-year age difference. Frances hadn’t understood Mum either, if they were being honest. ‘It’s okay. This is a magic place to live and for Piper and me this is the right place at the right time. We’re staying.’
Frances almost wrung her hands. ‘You won’t meet any eligible women here.’
He could feel his mood slip further. His irritation rise. His disappointment deepen. His sister didn’t understand his guilt couldn’t be fixed by an eligible woman. ‘Eligible for what, Frances? I’m no good for any woman at the moment and won’t be...’ he didn’t say ever ‘...for a very long time.’
He decided not to demonstrate the shower. Or point anything else out. Ditched the plans to take a picnic to the beach.
Instead he took Frances to the most expensive restaurant in town, where Piper slept in her stroller beside the table despite the noise of conversations and laughter all around, and listened to her stories of droll people and dire events in her husband’s practice.
In the corner of the restaurant he noticed a very attractive brunette. She nodded at him and he realised it was his morning midwife, elegantly dressed—sans scrubs—and made-up like a model, her brown hair blow-dried and shining, the glints catching the sun. Looking like a million bucks. Other men were looking at her. He preferred the windblown version.
She sat, a little isolated, in a lively group of people, all chinking champagne flutes to celebrate. Frances would approve of the clientele, he thought dryly, but recognised the older doctor he’d mentioned to his sister, and noted the stylish older woman next to him who leant into his shoulder, probably his wife. Another young woman he hadn’t seen around was chatting to the vibrantly glowing woman in the latter stages of pregnancy who drank water, and next to her a man hovered protectively, obviously the doting father-to-be.
He wished him better luck than he’d had. Finn felt his heart twist in self-disgust. He’d tried that. A lot of good that had done him.
‘Finn?’
His sister’s voice called him back to the present and he jerked his face away from them. ‘Sorry. You were telling me about Gerry’s partner?’
Frances hovered over being cross for a moment and thankfully decided to forgive graciously. ‘I was saying she has no idea how a doctor’s wife should dress.’
The lunch dragged on until finally Piper woke up and gave him an excuse to pay the bill.
They waved Frances goodbye after lunch with much relief. ‘Seriously, Piper. Your aunt is getting worse. We’re lucky to be so far away.’
They took the sand buckets and spade back down to the beach in the afternoon because Piper’s routine had been disrupted and she needed to get some play time in and wear herself out before bedtime.
To his surprise, and with a seagull-like swoop of uplifting spirits, the morning midwife sat there on the breakwall, back in beach clothes and mussed by the wind. He smiled at her like a long-lost friend. After the visit from his sister he felt as if he needed a pal.
CHAPTER FOUR (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA SAT SWINGING her legs on the breakwall down on the beach and breathed in the salt. The sea air blew strands into her eyes but it felt too good to worry about that. She saw him before he saw her and a deep, slashing frown marred his forehead. Different to this morning. Then his expression changed as he saw her, the etched lines disappeared and an unexpected, ridiculously sexy, warmly welcoming smile curved in a big sweep. Goodness. What had she done to deserve that?
‘Lovely afternoon,’ he said and the little girl waved.
Trina’s mouth twitched as she waved back. ‘Beautiful. I saw you at lunch. That’s three times in a day.’
‘A new world record,’ he agreed and she blushed. No idea why.
He paused beside her, another world record, and looked down from far too high. Up close and stationary, told herself again, he would be a very good-looking man—to other women. She studied him almost dispassionately. Long lashes framed those brilliant blue eyes and his dark brown wavy hair curled a tad too long over his ears. His chin was set firm and his cheekbones bordered on harsh in the bright light. She could see his effort to be social cost him. She knew the feeling.
‘I’m Catrina Thomas.’ She didn’t enlarge. He could ask if he was interested, but something told her he wasn’t so much interested as in need of a friend. Which suited her perfectly.
‘Finlay Foley. And you’ve met Piper. My daughter.’ The little girl bounced in the backpack.
You could do nothing but smile at Piper. ‘Piper looks like she wants to get down amongst the sand.’
‘Piper is happiest when she’s caked in sand.’ His hand lifted to stroke the wiggling little leg at his chest. Strong brown fingers tickling a plump golden baby ankle. ‘We’re going to build sandcastles. Piper is going to play hard and long and get extremely tired so she will sleep all night.’ Trina wasn’t sure if he was telling her or telling Piper. She suspected the latter.
‘Nice theory,’ Trina agreed judiciously. ‘I see you have it all worked out.’
He began to fiddle with the straps as he extricated his daughter from the backpack and clinically she watched the muscle play as man power pulled his loose white shirt tight. His thick dark hair tousled in the wind and drew her eyes until she was distracted again by the wriggling child. Finlay popped her down in the sand on her bottom and put a spade and bucket beside her.
‘There, miss.’ He glanced up at Trina. ‘Her aunt came today and she’s ruined our sleep routine.’ He paused at that. ‘Speaking of routines, this is late in the day for you to be on the beach.’
‘Nice of you to notice.’ She wasn’t sure if it was. There had been a suspicious lift of her spirits when she’d realised the woman he’d shared lunch with was his sister. What was that? She didn’t have expectations and he wouldn’t either—not that she supposed he would have. She wasn’t ready for that. ‘Don’t get ideas or I’ll have to leave.’ Almost a joke. But she explained.
‘Today is my first official Friday off for a long time. I’m off nights and on day shifts for the next year. Monday to Thursday.’ She looked around at the little groups and families on the beach and under the trees at the park. Pulled a mock frowning face. ‘I’ll have to talk to people and socialise, I guess.’
‘I know. Sucks, doesn’t it.’ The underlying truth made them both stop and consider. And smile a little sheepishly at each other.
Another urge to be truthful came out of nowhere. ‘I’m a widow and not that keen on pretending to be a social butterfly. Hence the last two years on night duty.’
He said more slowly, as if he wasn’t sure why he was following suit either, ‘My wife left us when Piper was born. A day later. I’ve morphed into antisocial and now I’m hiding here.’
Died? Or left? How could his wife leave when their daughter was born? She closed her mouth with a snap. Not normal. Something told her Piper’s mum hadn’t died, though she didn’t know why. Postnatal depression then? A chilling thought. Not domestic violence?
As if he read her thoughts, he added, ‘I think she left with another man.’ He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in her disbelief. ‘I need to start thinking about going back to work soon. Learn to stop trying to guess what happened. To have adult conversations.’
He shrugged those impressive shoulders. Glanced around at the white sand and waves. ‘I’m talking to Piper’s dolls now.’
Still bemused by the first statement, the second took a second to sink in. Surprisingly, Trina giggled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d giggled like a schoolgirl.
He smiled and then sobered. ‘Which means Piper and her dolls must go into day care if I go back to work.’
‘That’s hard,’ Trina agreed but wondered what sort of work he could ‘start thinking about going back to’. Not that there were screeds of choices around here. ‘Maybe part-time?’
‘I think so.’
‘Are you a builder? The house looks good.’
He laughed at that. ‘No. Far from it. Piper’s taught me everything I know.’
Trina giggled again. Stop it. She sounded like a twit. But he was funny. ‘I didn’t have you pegged as a comedian.’
His half-laugh held a hint of derision at himself. ‘Not usually. Remember? Antisocial.’
She nodded with solemn agreement. ‘You’re safe with me. If you need a protected space to tell your latest doll story you can find me.’ She waited until his eyes met hers. ‘But that’s all.’
‘Handy to know. Where do I find you? You know where I live.’ Then he turned away as if he regretted asking.
‘Of course I know where you live. It’s a small town and single men with babies are rare.’ Trina looked at him. ‘I meant...find me here. But I’ll think about it. I’m happy to have a male friend but not a stalker.’
She felt like an idiot saying that but thankfully he just looked relieved. ‘Hallelujah. And I promise I will never, ever turn up uninvited.’
‘We have that sorted.’ She glanced at Piper, who sat on the sand licking white granules off her fingers, and bit back a grin. ‘It’s good when children will eat anything.’
Finn focused instantly on his daughter and scooped her up. Trina could see him mentally chastising himself. She imagined something like, See what happens when you don’t concentrate on your daughter, and she knew he’d forgotten her. Was happy for the breathing space because, speaking of breathing, she was having a little trouble.
She heard his voice from a long way away. ‘Sand is for playing—not eating, missy.’ He scooped the grains from her mouth and brushed her lips. His quick glance brushed over Trina as well as he began to move away. ‘Better go wash her mouth out and concentrate. Nice to meet you, Catrina.’
‘You too,’ she said, suddenly needing to bolt home and shut her door.
* * *
Ten minutes later the lock clunked home solidly and she leant back against the wood. Another scary challenge achieved.
Not that she’d been in danger—just a little more challenged than she’d been ready for. And she had been remarkably loose with her tongue. Told him she was a widow. About her job. The hours she worked. What had got into her? That was a worry. So much so that it did feel incredibly comforting to be home. Though, now that she looked around, it seemed dark inside. She frowned. Didn’t just seem dark.
Her home was dark.
And just a little dismal. She frowned and then hurried to reassure herself. Not tragically so, more efficiently gloomy for a person who slept through a lot of the daylight hours. She pulled the cord on the kitchen blind and it rolled up obediently and light flooded in from the front, where the little dead-end road finished next door.
She moved to the side windows and thinned the bunching of the white curtains so she could see through them. Maybe she could open those curtains too. Now that she’d be awake in the daytime. Moving out of the dark, physically and figuratively.
So, she’d better see to lightening it up. Maybe a few bright cushions on her grey lounge suite; even a bright rug on the floor would be nice. She stared down at the grey and black swirled rug she’d bought in a monotone furnishing package when she moved in. Decided she didn’t like the lack of colour.
She crossed the room and threw open the heavy curtains that blocked the view. Unlocking the double glass doors and pushing them slowly open, she stepped out onto her patio to look out over the glittering expanse of ocean that lay before her like a big blue shot-thread quilt as far as the eye could see. She didn’t look down to the beach, though she wanted too. Better not see if there was the figure of a man and a little girl playing in the waves.
Instead she glanced at the little croft to her right where Ellie and Sam lived while Sam built the big house on the headland for their growing family. She wondered if they would keep the croft, as they said they would. It would be strange to have new neighbours on top of everything else.
The three crofts sat like seabirds perched on a branch of the headland, the thick walls painted white like the lighthouse across the bay and from the same solid stone blocks. Trina’s veranda had a little awning over the deck the others lacked. A thick green evergreen hedge separated the buildings to shoulder height.
On the other side of her house lay Myra’s croft. Originally from Paddington in Sydney, stylish Myra ran the coffee shop at the hospital and had recently married the older Dr Southwell—her boss. Ellie’s father-in-law.
Two brides in two months, living each side of her, and maybe that had jolted her out of her apathy as much as anything else. Surrounded by people jumping bravely into new relationships and new lives had to make a woman think.
She stepped out and crossed to the two-person swing seat she’d tussled with for hours to assemble. Her last purchase as a flat-pack. Last ever, she promised herself.
She’d never seen so many screws and bolts and instructions in one flat-pack. Then she’d been left with a contraption that had to be dragged inside when it got too windy here on top of the cliffs because it banged and rattled and made her nervous that it would fly into the ocean on a gust. It wasn’t really that she thought about the fact it needed a second person. Not at all.
She stepped back inside, glanced around then picked up the sewing basket and dug in it for the ribbons she’d put away. Went back to the double doors and tied back the curtains so they were right off the windows. Not that she was getting visitors—her mind shied away from the mental picture of a man and his baby daughter.
No. She’d lighten it because now she didn’t need to exclude the light to help her sleep. She was a day-shift person. She was brave. And tomorrow she’d scuba again, and maybe talk to Finlay and Piper if she saw them because she was resurrecting her social skills and stepping forward. Carefully.
CHAPTER FIVE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
FINN GLANCED BACK to the rocky breakwall once, to the spot where Catrina—nice name—had disappeared, as he crouched with Piper at the edge of the water to rinse her mouth of sand. It seemed other people did hurt like he did. And were left with scars that impacted hugely on how they lived their lives.
Two years working on night duty. He shuddered but could see the logic. Side-stepping the cold space beside you in the bed at night and avoiding that feeling of loss being the first thing you noticed in the day. Maybe he should have given that a go.
But the way she’d said she hadn’t pegged him as a comedian surprised him out of his usual lethargy. He’d made her laugh twice—that was pretty stellar. Apart from his daughter, whose sense of humour ran to very simple slapstick, he hadn’t made anyone giggle for a long time. He could almost hear her again. Such a delicious giggle. More of a gurgle really.
So—a widow? Lost like him, for a different reason. He wondered how her husband had died but in the end it didn’t really change her pain. He was gone. For ever. Unlike the uncertainty he lived with.
Would Clancy ever come back? In a year. In ten years? Was she even alive? But, most of all, what would he tell Piper when she grew up? How could he say her mother loved her when she’d walked away and never asked about her again? The pain for Piper’s future angst had grown larger than his own loss and he had no desire to rush the explanations.
Milestones with Piper never passed without him singeing himself with bitterness that Clancy wasn’t there to see them. First tooth. First word. First step last week—though she still spent most of her time on her bottom. And on Sunday—first birthday. He felt his jaw stiffen. That would be the day he said enough. Enough holding his breath, expecting Clancy to walk through the door.
A milestone he’d never thought he’d get to. He hadn’t decided whether to stay in Lighthouse Bay for the day with their usual routine; he was leaning towards taking Piper shopping, something he loathed, so that the logistics of strollers and car parking and crowd managing with a toddler drowned out the reminders of the best day of his life twelve months ago that had changed so soon after.
He wondered suddenly if he could ask Catrina to come. As a diversion, a pseudo-mother for the day, and then found himself swamped by such intense anger at Clancy for leaving their daughter he almost moaned. Piper clutched his hand and he looked down to see his daughter’s eyes staring up at him as if she could sense his pain.
He scooped her up and hugged her, felt the lump in his chest and willed it away. Whatever they did, he needed to remember it was a celebration of this angel in his arms, not of the woman who’d left them.
‘I’ll always love you, darling.’ The words came out thickly. ‘What would you like to do on Sunday, Piper?’
‘Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum.’
He groaned and buried his face in her shimmering golden cloud of hair. Fine mist-like hair that floated in the breeze and tangled if he didn’t tie it back but he couldn’t bring himself to get it cut. His gorgeous little buttercup with her fine-spun headache of hair.
‘Mum, Mum, Mum,’ Piper chirped.
The last thing he needed to hear at this moment. ‘Oh, baby, don’t. Please.’
She squirmed and the baby voice drifted up to him. Uncertain. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad?’
Pull yourself together. He lifted his head and looked into the soft dimpled face so close to his. ‘Yes. Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.’ He carried her into the waves to dangle her feet and she wriggled happily. He concentrated on his fingers holding her as he swept her ankles through the waves and the foam ran up her knees as she squealed in delight. Guilt swamped him all over again. ‘You can say Mum, Mum, Mum any time, my darling. Of course you can. Daddy’s being silly.’ Stupid!
Piper gurgled with laughter. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad.’ Finn could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces again and any lingering thoughts of Catrina the midwife washed into the sea with the grains of sand stuck to Piper’s feet.
CHAPTER SIX (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
THE EARLY-MORNING SUNBEAM poked Trina in the eye with an unfamiliar exuberance and she groaned and threw her hand up to cover her face. Who left the curtains open? Only one answer to that. The twinge of morning memory and loss made her breath hitch and she forced herself to breathe calmly.
Saturday morning. Scuba lesson. She groaned again and all the doubts and fears from last week came rushing back to twist her stomach. Why had she said she wanted to do this again? Why the need to push herself to extremes she didn’t feel comfortable with?
She flung the bedclothes back and swung her legs. The floor was warmed a little under her feet from the sun. That too seemed different.
Okay. Why was she fighting this? This was a new chapter in her life. Same book. She wasn’t removing any of the pages—just going forward.
She squinted at the morning beams painting the inside of her one-room croft in golden stripes and decided they were quite lovely. Not worth groaning about at all.
She padded across to the uncurtained double doors looking out over the ocean and decided the light streaming in shone still a little too bright until she’d made an Earl Grey to start the day and turned her back.
As she busied herself in the tiny kitchen nook, she pondered on yesterday and the advances she’d made towards holding a sensible conversation with an eligible male. Though technically she guessed he wasn’t eligible. But probably safe to practise on, as long as he was okay with it.
Not that she had any long-term intentions but she’d done all right. Beaten the bogeyman, and so had he. That made it a little easier. And no doubt different for him, as his wife had chosen to go. How on earth could a woman leave her baby? And why would she leave Finlay? That too was a teensy worry.
Trina thought back to where she’d been a year ago. Still in a black fog with a bright shiny mask on her face for work.
She didn’t believe that time healed all wounds, but maybe it scabbed over some of the deeper lacerations. The problem with losing your true love was they were never really gone, always hovering, a comfort, and an ache that flared into pain that burned right through you.
Boy, did she recognise the symptoms of reluctantly dipping a toe into the real world after the misty haze of deep grief. There were some aspects of her loss of Ed that would never disappear but in other ways she could, and would, live a happy life. She didn’t think that Finlay Foley had reached that stage yet. Which was a tiny shame.
But she’d better get on and prepare for her scuba lesson. She’d eat when she came back.
By the time Trina left her croft on the cliff she knew she’d be late if she didn’t hurry and her steps skipped as she descended to the beach with her towel and specially fitted snorkelling mask. That was one good thing about living right on the beach—she didn’t need to carry much because home was always a few steps away.
The path stopped at the sand and Trina began walking quickly around the headland. She’d glanced once towards the curve of the bay but no Finlay and Piper there, no sign of him, so tall and broad and unmistakable, so no golden-haired Piper on his back either, and fancifully it felt strange to be hurrying away without seeing them.
She forced herself to look forward again and concentrated on the scuba lessons she’d learnt last week from old Tom, running through the procedures.
‘Nice even breathing through the mouthpiece; no holding your breath. This is how to replace a regulator in your mouth if it gets knocked out. This is how to control the speed of your ascent and descent by letting air in and out via the buoyancy control, so your ears don’t hurt. Nothing to be nervous about. We’ll go as slow as you need.’
Two hours later as she walked home in a much more desultory fashion a glow of pride warmed her as she remembered old Tom’s quiet pleasure in her. ‘You’re a natural,’ he’d told her.
A natural scuba diver? Who would have known? But today he’d taken her to the little island just off the beach and they’d dived slowly around the tiny inlets and rocks and seen colourful fish, delicate submarine plant life that swayed with the rhythm of the ocean, once a small stingray and one slightly larger shark, and it had all been Technicolor brilliant. Exciting. And, to her absolute delight, she’d loved it.
Her mind danced with snapshots of the morning and she didn’t see the man and little girl sitting in a shallow rock pool under the cliff until she was almost upon them.
‘Oh. You. Hello,’ she stammered as she was jerked out of her happy reveries.
‘Good morning, Catrina,’ Finlay said. Though how on earth he could remain nonchalant while sitting in a sandy-bottom indent in the rock where the water barely covered his outstretched legs, she had no idea. ‘You look very pleased with yourself.’
She regarded them. She liked the way they looked—so calm and happy, Piper dressed in her frilly pink swimsuit that covered her arms and legs. And she liked the way he called her Catrina. Ed had always called her Trina and she wasn’t ready for another man to shorten her name. ‘Good morning to you, Finlay.’
‘Finn. Please. I’m usually Finn. Don’t know why I was so formal yesterday.’
‘Finn.’ She nodded and smiled down at Piper. ‘Hello, Piper. What can you see in the rock pool?’
The little girl turned her big green eyes back to the water. Pointed one plump finger. ‘Fiss,’ Piper said and Finn’s eyes widened.
His mouth opened and closed just like the word his daughter had almost mouthed.
‘She said fish!’ His eyes were alight with wonder and the huge smile on his face made Trina want to hug him to celebrate the moment of pure joy untinged by bitterness. ‘I can’t believe she said fish.’
‘Clever girl,’ Trina said and battled not to laugh out loud. She’d thought it had been more like a mumbled fiss. But she was sure her father knew better. Her mouth struggled to remain serious. In the end she giggled. Giggled? Again? What the heck?
She’d never been a giggler but this guy made her smiles turn into noises she cringed at.
To hide her idiotic response she said, ‘I’ve seen fish too, Piper.’
Finn glanced at her mask. ‘You’ve been snorkelling?’
Trina spread her arms and said with solemn pride, almost dramatically, ‘I have been scuba diving.’
‘Have you? Go you. I used to love to scuba.’ He glanced around. ‘Would you like to join us in our pool? There’s no lifeguard except me but if you promise not to run or dive we’ll let you share.’
Trina scanned the area too. Nobody she knew. She’d look ridiculous, though a voice inside her head said he looked anything but ridiculous in his skin-tight blue rash shirt and board shorts that left not one gorgeous muscle top or bottom unaccounted for.
She put down her mask and the sandals she carried, folded her towel to sit on, hiked up her sundress so it didn’t drag in the water and eased herself down at the edge of the pool and put her feet in. The water felt deliciously cool against her suddenly warmer skin.
Finn watched her and she tried not to be aware of that. Then Piper splashed him and the mood broke into something more relaxed. ‘So where did you go to scuba?’
She glanced the way she’d come. ‘Have you been around the headland?’
He nodded. ‘Around the next two until Piper started to feel like a bag of cement on my back.’
Trina laughed. She could so imagine that. She smiled at him. ‘The next bay is called Island Bay and the little rocky island that’s about four hundred metres out is called Bay Island.’
He laughed. ‘Creative people around here.’
She pretended to frown at him. ‘I like to think of it as being whimsical.’
‘Whimsical. Right.’
She nodded at him. ‘Thank you. So, Bay Island is where I did this morning’s lesson. Old Tom takes beginners out.’
Piper sat between Finn’s legs and he had his big brown long-fingered hands around her tiny waist so she couldn’t slip. She was splashing with her starfish hands and silver droplets of water dripped in chasing drops down her father’s chest. An unexpected melancholy overwhelmed Trina because the picture made her ache for lost opportunities she should have had with Ed. Opportunities Finn should have had with his wife. She wondered when these thoughts would stop colouring her every experience.
Finn smiled. ‘Let me guess. His business is called Old Tom’s Dive Shop.’
She jerked back to the present. Her brows crinkled in mock disbelief and she drew the sentence out slowly. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I’m psychic.’ His expression remained serious.
‘Really?’ She tried for serious too but he was doing it again and her mouth twitched.
‘Mmm-hmm. True story.’
‘Wow.’ She noted the little girl had found a treasure. ‘So you can see your daughter is about to put a shell in her mouth?’
Without taking his eyes off Trina’s face, his hand came up gently and directed Piper’s hand away from her lips. Brushed her fingers open until she dropped the shell and bent down and kissed the little fingers. ‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s fascinating.’ And it was. Watching this big bronzed man being so gentle and connected to this tiny girl-child. The bond between them made tears sting Trina’s eyes and she pretended she’d splashed water in them. Until she felt, and heard, her tummy rumble with sullen emptiness and seized on the excuse.
‘Well, as lovely as your private ocean pool is, I need to have food. I missed breakfast and I’m starving.’
‘Ah. So that’s what the noise was,’ he teased. ‘I thought it was an outboard motor.’
She flicked tiny droplets from her damp fingers at him. ‘Too rude.’
He rolled his eyes at her, then shifted Piper from between his legs to sit in the shallow pool and stood up easily. He leant down to offer her his hand. ‘Piper’s hungry. I should feed her too.’
She barely heard him. His so casually offered fingers were a stumbling block and she hesitated. Piper splashed and she knew she was holding them up. Reluctantly she put out her hand to his and his strong brown fingers closed over hers to lift her smoothly. Way too easily. But the touch of his fingers on hers created such a vibration between them that their eyes met. One pair as startled as the other.
When she was standing he let go quickly and bent down to hoist his daughter into his arms. His face stayed hidden as he tickled her and Trina straightened her own shocked features into a mask of politeness as Piper giggled.
‘Well,’ she said awkwardly, still rocked by the frisson of awareness that had warmed her whole hand. Her whole arm really. ‘Thanks for the swim.’
‘Can we walk back with you?’
No, she thought. ‘Of course,’ she said. And resisted the urge to hold her tingling hand in the other. She bent down and picked up her sandals and mask, slung her towel over her shoulder and resolutely faced the bay until they began walking beside her.
‘Would you like to have lunch with us?’
No, she thought. I can’t. I don’t know what I’m feeling and it’s making me more nervous than scuba diving ever did. But that was the idea of these new challenges. To challenge things that seemed daunting. And Finn was safe. It took her a long time to answer but strangely she didn’t feel pressured to make that snap decision. So she thought about it some more. It was just an impromptu lunch. And Piper made it much easier than if there were just the two of them. ‘Okay. Where?’
‘How about the beach shop? They have a closed-in play area that Piper loves to crawl around. It’s shady and the breeze is always good there.’
‘Sounds easy. But how about I meet you there? I didn’t bring my purse. I can just run up to the croft and get it.’
He looked a little crestfallen. ‘Piper may not last that long. She’s nearly ready for her sleep. I could shout you. You could pay for ice creams or something next time?’
Next time? They hadn’t tried this time yet. This was all happening way too fast. And wasn’t he having as much trouble as she was, putting a toe in the water of opposite sex conversation? Panic built like a wave rising from the ocean to her left. She tried to ride it and not be dumped.
He must have seen the indecision on her face because his features softened in understanding. ‘It’s okay. We can do a rain-check for another day.’
Disappointment dipped in her stomach. Did she want that? Why was everything so hard? ‘No. Let’s not. Thank you. I’ll just buy the next one, if that’s okay. A quick bite would be nice with company.’
They sat under the umbrellas and watched Piper play with a stand of coloured balls, then crawl importantly to steer a pretend ship with a bright blue Captain’s wheel. Every time the conversation flagged, Piper sparked a new discussion with some cute little parody of life in her determination to experience all that the colourful play area offered.
Trina could do with her enthusiasm. Considered that fact. ‘Babies should be compulsory on all outings. You could watch her all day.’
Finn laughed. Then, more seriously, said, ‘I do. She keeps me sane. Makes me get out of bed in the morning.’
Trina knew that feeling. ‘Well, you’ve certainly been busy since you got here. Your cottage is pretty in pink.’
‘Piper chose the colour,’ he said and then looked at her as if expecting her to laugh.
‘So she’s a pink girl. I can believe that. It looks good on her.’ Trina rested her cheek on her hand to watch his face, trying to understand why he should be so wary. ‘How did you get her to choose?’
‘I gave her swatches. I was hoping for blue but she took the pink every time.’
Too funny. Trina laughed. ‘Great idea. I can see that too.’ She looked at his face and his beautiful smile. She shook her head. ‘Her decision. You were stuck with it. Nothing you can do about that, then.’
He shrugged, his expression light and relaxed. It made her warm that he could be that way around her. ‘I’m used to it now. I’ve been learning to be a handyman. And quite enjoying the challenge.’
Handyman. Or woman. The bane of her life. She rolled her eyes. ‘Boy, have I had some repair challenges in the last two years? I’ve had to learn that too. Maybe I should paint my croft. Just yesterday I was thinking it looks very dark inside.’ She shut her mouth. Now, why did she say that? Almost an invitation for help.
Finn’s voice was light—lighter than her thoughts. ‘I can send Piper up if you like. To talk colours with you.’
Trina felt herself relax. He got it. Her expression had probably telegraphed the message that she’d regretted being so open. ‘I might take you up on that one day.’ She could hear the relief in her voice. Hoped he couldn’t.
They’d finished their roast beef sandwiches and iced coffee and Trina desperately needed some distance to think about the morning with Finn but the moment passed.
A commotion at the next table made them both turn. A woman had overturned her chair and the crash turned every head her way. She shook a small child hysterically. ‘Spit it out. Come on.’ She glanced around wildly. ‘He swallowed a button.’
The child gasped weakly, tried to cry and couldn’t find enough air to do so as he gulped and coughed. His face was tinged an alarming shade of blue as his mouth quivered.
Finn rose from their table and crossed the space in two strides. ‘May I? I’m a doctor.’ He didn’t wait long.
The woman sagged, nodded and, sobbing in panic, watched as Finn took the child from her. Trina had followed him and righted the woman’s chair and urged her back into it. Finn was a doctor. Wow. He’d said he wasn’t a vet.
Finn sank into the nearest seat and lay the little boy, head down, across his knees and patted his mid back firmly in slow pats.
Trina leaned towards him. ‘Can I help?’
Finn shook his head and concentrated on the boy. He patted again, then tipped him further. ‘Come on now, mate. Everything is fine. Cough it up.’
To Trina’s relief a sudden plop heralded the arrival of the button as it flew out onto the floor, initiating a collective sigh of relief from the entire café. And her. Wow. Calmness is us.
Finn righted the little boy and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Then he stood up with the exhausted child in his arms and passed him to his mother as if nothing had happened.
‘He’ll be fine. Just needs a minute to get his breath back.’ He rested his hand on her shoulder and spoke quietly into her ear. Trina couldn’t hear what he said but the woman nodded. Once. Twice. Glanced at the boy in her arms and squeezed him tighter. Then looked back at Finn with a vehement nod. ‘Thank you.’ The words were heartfelt.
Trina felt her eyes sting. Her heart still thudded from the spectre of a child choking to death in front of them all. She had no doubt everyone there had felt for the fear of the mother, though Trina would have liked to have given her a few pointers about first aid manoeuvres.
She glanced to where Piper played contentedly, oblivious to the drama she’d missed, and oblivious to the fact her daddy had quite possibly just saved a little boy’s life. Trina wanted to go home. She felt too emotional to be out in public. Though she suspected she would still be thinking about Finn even if she was away from him.
When Finn sat back down and the conversations around them had begun again she nodded towards the woman, who was paying her bill and leaving with her little boy hugging her leg as he waited.
‘Good job. What did you say to her?’ She didn’t mention he’d said he was a doctor. It didn’t matter what he was.
‘I asked if she’d seen what I did and, if there was a next time, to try that instead. That shaking didn’t help and was actually dangerous. That calm speaking would relax the oesophagus as well.’
‘I’m impressed. Discreet and direct.’ The guy did everything right. But she still needed to get away from the emotionally charged atmosphere. She collected her mask and towel from the ground beside her and pushed her chair back. ‘Before all the excitement I was about to leave. So thank you for lunch.’ She glanced at his daughter, who had apparently wrung every conceivable amusement out of the play area and looked to be ready to depart as well.
‘Maybe next weekend I could repay the favour.’ Piper wailed. ‘As long as Piper is free?’
Finn stood up to rescue his daughter. ‘I’ll look in her calendar and let you know.’
Their eyes connected for a moment, both a little bemused by the ease of their conversation. ‘That would be lovely. Thank you, Finn.’
‘Thank you, Catrina.’ He watched her again and she knew he didn’t want her to go. His approval circled her like a whisper of flame crackling and warming her around the base of her lost confidence. But the lure of time away from this new and challenging situation beckoned enticingly.
She stood and waved to the tiny girl. ‘Bye, Piper.’
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
FINN WATCHED HER walk swiftly across the car park to the path. Almost hurrying away from him. Was it the incident with the little boy? That had turned out okay. Poor terrified little kid and mum—but all right now.
His eyes followed Catrina as Piper leaned into his neck. Maybe she’d left because she felt he was pushing for her company? He was. Why was he pressuring her? If someone had pushed him like he was pushing her he’d have run for the hills. Or a croft. Which she did.
Maybe he was sabotaging himself and hoping she’d stop it before he did? But there was no getting over the fact he’d been a little desperate for Catrina to stay.
And then there had been that jolt when he’d helped her stand at the rock pool. Unconsciously his hands came together to replicate the action, as if to see if he could still feel that vibration that had taken them both by surprise. It had been bizarre, and he’d seen the shock in her face—apparently he hadn’t been the only one to feel it—before he’d picked up Piper to give himself a moment to recover.
He wished he’d told her it was Piper’s birthday tomorrow. Because at lunch, after an initial stiffness, conversation had felt so easy. It had been strangely healing to have her sitting opposite him as they both watched his baby playing. When Catrina was there it was easier not to think about where Piper’s mother would be tomorrow.
The guilt hit him like a fist in the chest and he sucked in his breath. What was he doing? How could he think that? He was a coward and tomorrow he’d celebrate Piper—he needed to be man enough not to cower in a corner feeling sorry for himself. He paid the bill and gathered Piper up in his arms.
Tomorrow he’d survive and Monday he’d see about getting a job.
* * *
Sunday morning Finn woke with a headache. Unusually, Piper had been unsettled most of the night and he wondered if they were both coming down with a cold. Or if the emotion of the coming anniversary of Clancy’s desertion was rubbing off him and onto Piper.
He took two paracetamol and a vitamin tablet, and hand-squeezed an orange to give Piper with her breakfast. Because she was still asleep, he decided they wouldn’t go out for the day if they were both unwell. He looked at the two wrapped presents he had for Piper. One was a tiny gardening set in a flower-decorated garden basket and the other a push-along block set for inside or out.
The cupboard above the sink drew his eyes and he crossed the room and searched for the packet cake mix he’d thrown in there a month ago in case he needed to make Piper’s birthday cake. The packet mix came with little blue cupcake wrappers, pink frosting and fairy princess stickers to press into the icing after they’d been cooked.
The instructions seemed basic and he set it all out, with the candle, for later when he could make some noise. He glanced across at Piper but she snored gently and he wandered to the front of the beach house and stared out at the waves across the bay.
He could see Catrina walking along the breakwall and watched her brisk walk as she strode further away, the wind whipping her hair across her face. He wanted to wave and call her and share the burden and the blessing of this day with her, but knew he wouldn’t.
‘Last thing she needs,’ he told himself out loud, keeping his voice quiet.
‘Boo,’ said a little voice from behind him and he turned to see Piper standing in her cot with her bunny cuddle blanket over her face.
Despite his aching heart, he smiled. ‘Where’s Piper?’
Piper pulled the blanket off her head and appeared like magic. Her eyes crinkled with delight at her own cleverness. ‘Boo.’
‘There she is.’ He crossed the room to her but before he arrived he put his hands over his face and then pulled them away. ‘Boo to you too, missy. Happy birthday, Piper!’ He lifted her up out of her cot and hugged her. She gurgled with squirming delight and he had to force himself not to squeeze her too tight.
He began to sing ‘Happy birthday’ but faltered halfway through when he thought of Clancy and all she was missing. Forcing himself to finish the song, he carried Piper over to the window. ‘It’s a breezy sunny day for your birthday. What would you like to do?’
Piper put her head on his shoulder and snuggled in.
Suddenly it was okay again. They could do this. ‘You feeling a little fragile today, poppet? Me too. But I’m making you a cake this morning. You can help by pushing on the stickers. It will be our first cake but your daddy is a doctor and supposed to be very smart. I’m sure we can manage little pink cakes for our birthday girl.’ She bounced with a little more enthusiasm in his arms.
‘Then we can sit outside and let the sunshine and fresh air kill all the germs, if there are any. No work today. Lazy day.’
He put Piper down on the floor and she crawled away from him to her box of toys in the corner with just a little less than her usual surprising speed.
He watched her go and thought about looking for childcare tomorrow. If he couldn’t find anything then they’d leave it all for a while longer. That thought brought comfort. Surely it would be hard to find someone in a small town like this at such short notice.
He glanced out of the window again down to the beach and saw Catrina was on her way back. She didn’t pass his house, or hadn’t in the past or he would have noticed, and he leaned towards the window and saw her moving up the hill towards the cliff opposite the lighthouse. She’d said ‘croft’ yesterday. Maybe she was in one of those three little cottages on the cliffs that matched the lighthouse. All white stone.
He’d liked the look of them but the real estate agent had said they weren’t for sale. He’d never actually gone up that way towards the hospital along the cliff path. Maybe it would be a nice place to go for a change when he went walking with Piper. Just in case he was missing out on a good walk, he reassured himself. But not today. He had promised he’d never drop in uninvited and had no intention of doing so.
Except the morning dragged. They went to the beach but the wind was a little cool to get wet and if Piper was coming down with a cold he didn’t want to make it worse. Before long they went home and played inside. But he felt closed in staying indoors. Piper seemed to have recovered and before lunch she’d become unusually bored.
So after lunch, full from eating little pink cakes and with a sealed bag holding an extra one, he hefted Piper onto his back and went for a walk up the hill.
Yes, he nodded to himself dryly, towards the cliff path, not totally directed to one of the crofts that he wondered might belong to Catrina, but certainly it felt good to be outside, with a fresh breeze blowing the cobwebs and fingers of darkness from his lowered mood.
‘Dad, Dad, Dad,’ Piper burbled from behind his ear—so Piper liked being outside too, and it was her birthday. He was supposed to be doing what she wanted. Each of his steps up the hill lightened his mood and the hill path was well maintained and solid under his feet. He could feel the exertion and decided Catrina could probably run up this hill if she did it a couple of times a day. He wasn’t quite up to that yet.
The path forked towards the cottages one way and down onto a cliff edge path on the other and he realised the crofts had hedges around them for privacy from below.
That was good. He wouldn’t want anybody to be able to peek into Catrina’s house just by walking along the path, but it was a tiny bit disappointing that he couldn’t see any of the buildings up close. Then he rounded a bend and the path snaked up again and as he trekked up the hill he realised they’d come out past the cottages.
Quite ingenious really. At the top they came out onto a little open area with a bench and an ancient telescope that had been cemented into the footpath to look out to sea.
He paused and bent down to peer through it, which was hard with Piper suddenly excited and bouncing on his back, when a voice spoke behind him.
‘I bet Piper is heavier going uphill.’
He could feel the smile on his face as he turned—he hadn’t imagined her.
‘Hello there, Catrina.’
‘Hello, you two, and what are you doing up here in the clouds?’
‘We’ve never been here before. And it’s Piper’s birthday.’
Her face broke into a shining sunbeam of a smile and she stepped closer to drop a kiss on Piper’s cheek. ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart. I hope Daddy made you a cake.’
Piper bounced and crowed.
‘Of course. Though really we made cupcakes with pink princess stickers.’
This time the smile was for him. ‘I wish I could have seen them.’
It felt good to know he’d thought ahead. ‘By a stroke of luck, we do have a spare one in our bag which I’m sure Piper would love to share with you?’ He looked around and considered the logistics of Piper and a cliff edge. Maybe not.
It seemed that Catrina got it in one. ‘It’s too tricky here for a birthday girl. Come back and I’ll show you the croft. We can sit on the balcony; it’s well fenced and safe.’
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA TURNED ON the path and directed them along the other fork back towards her house, beckoning them to follow. Thankfully, facing the other way, Finn couldn’t see the expression on her face. She still couldn’t believe she’d invited them into her home. So blithely. Since when had her bravery suddenly known no bounds?
Well, she could hear Finn’s springing footsteps behind her as she led the way around the loop that led to the cottages again and within seconds they’d popped out onto the road outside the last croft, where Myra and Dr Southwell lived. As they passed the door opened and the older gentleman stepped out.
He smiled when he saw her, and then his face lit up further when he saw who followed her. ‘Trina. And Finn. And Piper. Hello. Delightful. So, you’ve met.’
Trina could feel herself blush. ‘Hello. Yes. At the beach.’ Glancing around for inspiration to change the subject, she added, ‘Lovely day.’ Not only had she invited a man back to her house but she’d been caught in the act. Everyone would know. Dr Southwell wasn’t a gossip but, seriously, Ellie’s father-in-law? Small blinkin’ towns.
Trina blushed again under Dr Southwell’s pleased smile.
‘The weather is super. Love to stay and chat but I’m off to the hospital.’ He waved and strode off.
Trina shrugged off the awkwardness with determination. ‘So that’s who lives next door on this side and my boss, Ellie, and her husband, who happens to be an obstetrician, Dr Southwell’s son, live on the other side.’
He looked around at the three crofts as they came to hers, and paused. ‘You’re well covered for medical help then.’ He smiled a little awkwardly.
‘Never too many in an emergency.’ She smiled back, too concerned with whether she’d left the house tidy before he arrived to worry about trying to read his reaction to her neighbours. She indicated her own front path. ‘Come in. It’s small but compact, much like yours is, I imagine.’
‘Yes. Tiny, but I like it. You’ll have to come and see my renovations.’
Not your etchings? She thought it and smiled to herself. Didn’t risk saying anything in case he heard the amusement in her voice. At least she could be amused by something that she would have run a mile from a month ago. In fact, she could have rubbed her knuckles on her chest. Darn proud of herself, really.
She pushed open the door and was glad she’d opened all the blinds this morning. With everything open the sea seemed to be a part of the room, with all eyes being drawn to the open French windows out onto the little terrace. She gestured him to walk that way.
‘Great view,’ Finn said after a low whistle. ‘That’s really magic.’ He walked slowly to the French windows and absently began to undo Piper’s straps.
Trina came up behind him and undid the other one. ‘Here, let me help.’ She lifted Piper out of the straps and set her down. ‘There’s nothing to climb on. I only keep the swing chair out there and it’s against the house wall. It has to come in when it’s windy.’
Piper crawled straight for the rails and her little hands grabbed on as she pulled herself up. She bounced on the balls of her feet. Finn followed her out and Trina stood back a little and admired them both.
A bouncy, healthy little girl and her gorgeous dad. She wasn’t sure when he’d graduated from attractive to other women to gorgeous for her, but she had to admit he made an admirable picture with his big shoulders and strong back silhouetted against the ocean. His long fingers rested lightly and then the curved muscles in his arms bunched as he gripped the rail for a minute. She wondered what he was thinking about as he stood guard over his daughter, his powerful thighs either side of her as one hand left the rail and brushed her small head.
Then the penny dropped. Piper’s birthday. And his wife had left soon after Piper’s birth. That made this time of year a distressing anniversary as well as a day for celebration for Piper. Tough call. She hadn’t even crawled out of bed on the anniversary of losing Ed.
Why hadn’t he said something yesterday? Then she chastised herself. Why would he share that with a stranger?
She swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. ‘Would you two like a cold drink?’ She managed to even her voice. ‘I have a spill-proof cup I use for one of my friend’s daughters.’
‘Piper has her water here, thanks.’ He came back in and bent down to Piper’s pack. Pulled out a little pink pop-top bottle. ‘She’ll use hers.’ Then he pulled out a Ziploc bag. ‘Aha! Here’s your part of Piper’s birthday cake.’
He glanced back at his daughter. ‘Probably best she doesn’t see it as I had no idea she could gobble as many as she did and she’ll be sick if she eats any more.’
Trina nodded and swiped the bag, turning her back to the veranda and opening the seal. She lifted out the little blue-papered cake and admired the rough pink icing and slightly off-centre sticker. ‘It’s magnificent.’
‘Piper put the stickers on herself.’
‘Clever girl.’ She looked at him. ‘Clever Daddy for the rest.’
He looked at her. Maybe saw the lingering distress in her eyes and he closed his own for a minute and then looked at her again. Nodded. ‘So you’ve guessed it’s a tough day?’
‘You have a different set of triggers but I was just thinking I didn’t even get out of bed when mine went past.’ They needed to get out and fill the day with something. ‘How about we go for a walk along the cliffs further? There’s a really cool cave overlooking the ocean about a kilometre north I could show you. And there’s a sweet little dip of green grass Piper would love.’ She smiled at the thought. ‘She could probably log roll down the tiny hill. I watched some kids do that one day and it looked fun.’
She saw relief lift the creases from his brow. ‘That does sound good. Is there somewhere you’d prefer me to change Piper before we go? I have a change mat.’
‘You have everything!’ And wasn’t that true. ‘Change mats are great. You can use my bed and save you bending down. I’ll make a little snack for the meadow.’ She turned away. Excited for the first time in a long while with a task she couldn’t wait to play with.
She slipped in two small cans of mixer cordial that she’d bought on a whim. A packet of dates and apricots for Piper. She even had arrowroot biscuits, perfect for a little girl to make a mess with. Threw in some crisps, two apples and a banana. It all fitted in her little cool bag she carried to work each day, along with the tiny checked throw she had never had the opportunity to use for a picnic.
They set off ten minutes later, Piper bouncing on her daddy’s back and Trina swinging along beside them as if she was a part of the little family. She winced at her instinctive comparison. No. Like a party of friends. Looking out for each other.
The sun shone clear and warm on their backs as they strode along the path. The sea breeze blew Piper’s bright golden mist of hair around her chubby face as she chattered away. Trina decided Finn looked so much more relaxed out in the open. It made her feel good that she’d helped.
A cruise ship hugged the horizon and she pointed it out to Finn. Piper saw a seabird dive into the water far below and they had to stop and watch for a minute until it came out again with a fish in its beak.
Trina admired the skill of the surfers, bobbing and swooping like brilliant supple-bodied flying fish on the curling waves.
When she commented, Finn shared, ‘I love surfing.’
‘I’ve never tried.’ Maybe she could add that to her adventure list.
Finn said, ‘When Piper is old enough I’ll teach her to surf. This looks a great place to do that.’
‘Dr Southwell used to surf every morning before he was married. Though I have to admit he did come a cropper when he was washed off the shelf last year.’
He looked back the way they’d come. ‘Really? Ouch. Which shelf?’
She pointed. ‘The ones under the cliffs, with the rock pools we were in yesterday.’
Finn frowned. ‘It doesn’t look dangerous there.’
‘It is on a king tide. And his timing was off if you ask him. They lifted him out with a chopper but the good news was his son met Ellie, my boss, when he came to locum while his father was away, and they married and are having a baby. That’s why I’m doing Ellie’s job for the next year—hence the change from night duty.’
‘Happy ending.’ His voice held only a trace of bitterness. She got that. But she’d moved on herself, thankfully.
She wondered if he’d heard his own subtext because his voice came out warmer than before. ‘So were they all the people in the restaurant on Friday?’
She’d forgotten. ‘Yes, that’s right—you were there. With Piper and your sister.’ She thought back over those present. ‘They were celebrating Ellie’s leave and my promotion.’
‘Congratulations.’
She laughed. ‘Thanks. First day tomorrow. We’ll see.’
She thought back to Friday and the pleasant lunch. Her own surprise to see Finn there. With another woman. Felt just a little embarrassed now she knew it was his sister. Hurried on in case it showed on her face. ‘The other older lady at the table is the one who makes the most divine cakes—Dr Southwell’s wife, Myra.’
‘I guess I’ll get to know them all. Dr Southwell’s offered me a place in his practice. I’ll start as soon as I can find day care for Piper.’
She raised her brows. ‘Do you have a specialty?’
‘I started in general practice. Then I went on and studied paediatrics. I thought everyone knew?’ Then he shook his head. ‘I guess I haven’t really spoken to many people. I have my Diploma of Obstetrics from my GP days, but no real experience in that. Just the antenatal side of it. Not the delivery part.’
He didn’t look old enough to have done all that. Catrina smiled at him, decided she wouldn’t share that thought and shook her head mockingly. ‘We don’t say delivery any more. Especially in Lighthouse Bay. We’re Midwifery Group Practice.’
He put his hands up. ‘Midwifery Group Practice. And I said delivery. My bad.’
‘Very.’ She smiled at him. ‘Everything is midwifery-led and woman-centred. The antenatal clinic is drop-in and popular. When the mother births, we support her choice to stay or go, and she’s visited at home within the day after if that’s what she wants or she can stay for a few days in the hospital. Either way, we don’t call a doctor unless someone is sick.’
He put out his hands helplessly and pretended to sigh. ‘I’m defunct and I haven’t even started.’
She laughed. ‘You’ll get used to it. You should meet Ellie and her husband. Sam’s the Director of Obstetrics at the base hospital and fell in love with Lighthouse Bay too. And Ellie, of course.’ She smiled at the thought. ‘Sam moved here from a big Brisbane Hospital so we’re lucky to have him as an unofficial back-up in real emergencies when he’s not on-call at the base hospital.’
She looked at him thoughtfully. ‘I’ve thought of someone who could mind Piper, if you’re interested.’
His face went blank and she hesitated. Maybe he wasn’t ready yet.
‘I’ll need to find someone eventually,’ he managed but she could see it cost him. She wished she hadn’t mentioned it now.
Then he said more firmly, ‘Sure. That would be great. I need to start looking.’
Trina thought about Marni. She didn’t regret mentioning her, though. ‘She’s a doll. A natural mother. Her twins are six months old and she’s just registered for day care status.’
CHAPTER NINE (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Finn
FINN FELT HIS stomach drop. He wasn’t seeing the path or the ocean or the sky overhead. He shouldn’t have asked about day care. But something inside had dared him to. Something that wanted him to move on, as if he’d known he’d be catapulted into a decision if he put it out there. All his instincts wanted to draw back. Stop her telling him. Say he’d ask if he decided it was time. She’d understand. Not sure how he knew that but he believed in the truth of it.
Instead he said, ‘Would you recommend her?’
She looked at him thoughtfully. Kindly. ‘That’s tough because it’s not about me,’ she said gently, as if she could read his distress. Then she looked at Piper. ‘Marni could mind my child, if I had one.’ The tone was almost joking. He saw something that looked like pain flit across her face and remembered again there were people out there who did suffer as much as he did. People like Catrina. Left alone by the love of their life—without choice and unintentionally. Loss of love and no baby to hold like he did. Imagine life without Piper.
Catrina’s voice wasn’t quite steady but he could hear the struggle to make it so. It had been a very brave thing to say and he wanted to tell her that. Wanted to tell her that he understood. But still the coward inside him shied away from so much emotion.
Catrina said, ‘Maybe you could see if Piper likes her before you commit to work and see how she goes? Just an hour or two?’
‘That’s a good idea. Tell me about her.’
He saw her gaze into the distance, a soft smile on her face and a glimmer of distress, though this time he didn’t think it was for herself. ‘She’s a younger mum. Early twenties. She and her husband own the dry-cleaners in town but she’s a stay-at-home mum. Marni’s Mother Earth and the boys are six months old. Bundles of energy, healthy as all get-out, which is great because she nearly lost them at twenty-three weeks, and she spent a lot of time in hospital. As far as the midwives of Lighthouse Bay think, she’s a hero to us.’
He had to smile at that. ‘The Midwives of Lighthouse Bay. Sounds like a serial on TV.’
She laughed a little self-consciously and he regretted making light of the one stable thing she had in her life, hadn’t meant to embarrass her. ‘Don’t get me wrong. It’s another good ending to a story.’
Catrina seemed to relax. ‘It really was. Ellie’s husband, Sam, had been involved in research into preventing extreme premature birth in Brisbane, and thankfully he was here when she went into labour. Marni and Bob are a lovely couple who’d already lost an extremely premature baby daughter.’
Finn wasn’t so sure. She already had twins and he wanted someone who could concentrate on Piper. ‘How could she care for Piper as well?’ Finn was more uncertain now. ‘Sounds a bit hectic. She has twins and she’s doing day care?’
He caught Trina’s encouraging smile and suddenly saw how she could be a good midwife. Her empathy shone warm—he felt she understood and was reassuring him that he would conquer his fear of letting Piper out of his sight. All without putting on pressure. Encouraging him to test his own strength without expectations. Treating him like a woman in labour battling her own fear. Wow. She had it down pat.
Then she said, ‘She loves minding babies. And babies love her. Usually she’s minding them for free. We keep telling her she should become a midwife and I wouldn’t be surprised when the boys go to school if she’ll look at it. But, for now, she’s just starting up official day care.’
Absently he bent and stroked Piper’s leg at his side. ‘Maybe I could meet her before I talk to Dr Southwell? It’s a good idea to see if Piper likes her before I commit to work, though. You’ll have to give me her number.’
‘Or we could visit her. Meet her and her husband. See their house. They’re a lovely couple and live only a few doors up from you. In the blue pastel cottage.’
It was all happening too quickly. He could feel the panic build and squashed it down again. He could do this. Just not today.
Catrina touched his arm—the first time she had physically connected with him of her own volition—and again that frisson of awareness hummed where they touched. He glanced at her but her expression still showed only compassionate support. ‘It’s something to think about. Marni is just the one I know. There will be others when you’re ready.’
His relief made his shoulders sag. She must have seen it on his face. Was he that transparent? He’d have to work on his game face before he went back to work or his patients’ parents would run a mile.
He tried to make light of it. ‘I imagine every parent must feel like this when they have to go back to work. Torn.’
‘Absolutely. We see mums that can’t stay in hospital for one night after birth because they hate leaving the other child or children too much.’ She looked towards Piper and smiled. ‘I’d find it hard to leave Piper if she were mine.’
His face tightened. He could feel it. Some women could. Piper’s mother had no problem. And he’d be the one who had to break his daughter’s heart when the time came to tell the truth.
Catrina opened her mouth—he didn’t want to talk about Clancy—but all she said was, ‘The cave’s just around this next headland.’ He was glad she’d changed the subject.
The cave, when they arrived, curved back into the cliff and created an overhang half the size of his house. A few round boulders acted as seats for looking out over the ocean out of the sun. Or rain. Plenty of evidence suggested people had camped and made campfires there but on the whole it had stayed clean and cool, and dim towards the back. The sort of place young boys would love to go with their mates.
He could stand up in the cave easily and they stomped around in it for a few minutes before Catrina suggested they go the small distance further to the glade so Piper could be released from the backpack.
The glade, when they arrived, had a park bench and table at the edge of the slope down into the bowl-shaped dip of grass. The bright sunshine made the grass lime cordial-coloured and the thick bed of kikuyu and daisies felt softer and springier than he expected when he put Piper down to crawl. Because of the sloping sides of the bowl Piper tended to end up back in the lowest point in the middle even when she climbed the sides and he could feel his mouth twitching as she furrowed her brows and tried to work out what was happening.
He pulled a bright saucer-sized ball from her backpack and tossed it in the centre of the glade while Catrina set their picnic bag on the table and spread the cloth. Piper crawled to the ball and batted it. Of course it rolled back down the side to her again. She pushed it again and crowed when it rolled back again.
‘Clever girl,’ he said to his daughter, and ‘Clever girl,’ to Catrina, who grinned at him as she finished laying out their treats and came to sit next to him on the side of the grass hill. ‘I can’t remember when I last had a picnic,’ he said as he passed an arrowroot biscuit to Piper and took one of the apples for himself.
‘I know. Me either.’ She handed him the can of drink and took a sip of her own. Then he heard her sigh blissfully.
‘We couldn’t have had more beautiful weather this afternoon.’
‘A bit different to this morning.’
‘That’s the beauty of Lighthouse Bay. We’re temperate. Not too hot for long or too cold for long. Always leaning towards perfect weather.’
‘Always?’
Catrina laughed. ‘Well, no. We do have wild storms sometimes. That’s why I have shutters on my windows and doors. But not often.’
The afternoon passed in a desultory fashion and once, when Piper dozed off in his arms, he and Catrina lay side by side watching the clouds pass overhead in companionable silence. He’d never met anyone as restful as she was. It would have been so simple to slide closer and take her hand but the man who could have done that had broken a year ago.
An hour later, on the way home from their walk, he asked again about the exact location of the day care mum.
‘I could come with you to knock on the door? Maybe meeting the family would help?’
‘Just drop in?’ Despite his initial reluctance, he could see that an impromptu visit could be less orchestrated than one when they expected him. And he had Catrina to come with him to break the ice.
It made sense. Not fair perhaps, but this was his baby he was considering leaving in their care, and he wanted a true representation of the feeling of the household.
When the door opened to answer his knock, a smiling red-haired man answered. Past him they could hear the sound of a child squealing and the smell of a roast dinner drifted out to tantalise his nose. He hadn’t had an old-fashioned roast for years. His mouth watered.
‘Can I help you?’ Then the man saw Catrina and smiled beatifically. ‘Trina!’
‘Hello, Bob. How are you?’ The man stepped forward and hugged her and Finn was surprised.
When they stepped back from each other she said, ‘Something smells divine. Lucky you—Sunday roast.’
‘You’re welcome any time, Trina.’ He grinned and looked at her companion.
‘This is Finn Foley. He’s a friend and I told him about Marni offering childcare and—’ she indicated Piper ‘—he and Piper have just started looking.’ Finn glanced at Catrina. Took a second to savour that she’d claimed friendship. She really was his only friend here.
She still spoke to Bob. ‘I wondered if he could have a chat with Marni?’
‘Absolutely. Any friend of yours and all that.’ Bob grinned at Finn. ‘Come in. Marni? There’s a dad here looking for information about childcare.’
Finn liked the way he said that. To his wife, with deference, and that he wasn’t committing to anything. Just asking. His nerves settled a fraction as he followed Catrina, with Piper on his back, in the door.
The room had been divided into two, with a kitchen and lounge on one side and a wall with doors on the other. Bedrooms, he guessed, unlike his one-room cottage. An extension had been built out the back with a big play room that overlooked the tiny fenced garden. Everything sparkled; even the toys strewn on the floor in the play room caught the sunlight and looked new and well cared for. The family warmth in the little abode made the tension drop from his shoulders and his eyes met Trina’s in acknowledgement.
A young woman crossed to them, drying her hands on a tea towel. She too hugged Catrina, and her shy smile eased the tension in Finn’s stomach like magic. ‘Trina. Great to see you.’
‘This is Finn, Marni.’ She turned to help Finn extricate Piper from the backpack—which he was pretty darn good at, but he had to admit it was quicker with help. And he liked her touching him.
‘Nice to meet you, Finn. You live a few doors down, don’t you?’ she said as she held out her hand. They shook briefly and he liked that her fingers were cool and dry, her grip confident.
‘Welcome.’ She smiled at Piper, who now sat on his hip, then turned around and pointed to two boys as if introducing her to them not Finn. ‘The one on the left is Olly, and the cheekier one is Mikey.’ She looked at Piper. ‘And what is your name, beautiful?’
Previously fascinated by the smaller humans, Piper looked back at the lady’s face, realised everyone was looking at her and then she clutched at his neck and buried her face.
Finn rubbed her back. ‘Piper can be shy.’
‘Of course she can.’ Marni indicated the rear of the cottage. ‘Come and sit out on the deck at the back and we’ll show you the play area and I can answer your questions.
‘So Catrina told you I’ve started doing childcare?’ The smile Marni gave Catrina lit up her face. ‘The midwives are my cheer squad. They’re all champions up there. If it wasn’t for them and the younger Dr Southwell, we wouldn’t have our gorgeous boys.’
Finn looked at the two chubby-faced little boys, one sitting in a blue tub of a chair kicking his feet and the other lying on his back on the patterned play carpet with a red spiral rattle. The little boy—Finn thought it was Olly—began to screw his face up, dropped the rattle and began to rock until he rolled over and lay on his stomach. The mischievous chortle he let out at the feat made Finn smile.
‘Clever boy, Mikey,’ his dad said. So he’d got that wrong, Finn thought. And then Bob gestured to his wife. ‘I’ll finish the potatoes. You take our guests and Piper out and have a chat.’
Finn liked that too. He could see they were a team and, despite having two babies, the air of serenity as Marni smiled made his trepidations settle. This sort of calm atmosphere looked perfect for Piper to learn about other babies and new adults.
A heck of a lot different to the busy, efficient childcare he’d had her in before. But Piper still clung to him like one of the stripy shells on the side of a rock pool and he remembered the hard times at the big kindergarten when he’d tried to leave.
Marni pointed to a scrubbed wooden table and four sturdy chairs. Two highchairs took up the other spaces. They all sat down and Marni put a soft-sided squeaky farm book on the table in front of Piper without making a fuss of it.
‘I am looking for two more toddlers. That will give me enough to cover the wage of the girl working with my husband at the dry-cleaners and then there’s no rush for me to go back to work. I’m hoping to stay home for the next year at least. In a perfect world, I won’t go back to work until the boys go to school.’
She smiled calmly at Finn. ‘But we’ll see what happens.’
So a stable place, Finn was thinking, and he wondered, if he offered to pay twice the rate, would Marni consider having Piper by herself, at least at the beginning so the young mum wasn’t pushed by the demands of four children? Piper would benefit and money wasn’t a problem. Finding someone caring and kind for Piper would be priceless.
He tried to think of a question. ‘Catrina said you’ve just been registered. Having two babies seems intense to me. Piper can keep me busy and there’s only one of her.’
She glanced lovingly towards the two gurgling on the floor and then across at her husband. ‘I mind lots of children. Have always loved them and thought for a while we’d never be able to have any. But then the boys came along, though I spent a couple of months in hospital hanging onto them, so they are beyond precious.’
She shrugged ruefully. ‘I’m worried I might spoil them and want them to learn to share, not just with each other but with other children. Some extra income would help and my husband and I are both the eldest from big families. Our families are in Western Australia so we miss having lots of kids around.’
‘I guess childminding makes sense in that case.’
Piper reached out and picked up the book. Scrunched it with her inquisitive fingers. Barely audible squeaks erupted when she squeezed and a crooked smile tipped her mouth as she battled between shyness and delight.
All the adults looked at her fondly. ‘So, information-wise, what sort of minding were you looking for?’
‘I’ve been offered a position three days a week, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.’
Marni nodded. ‘Three is better than five for Piper. Especially in the beginning. Has she been in care before?’
‘Yes, poor baby, most of her life, when I worked. About fifty hours a week. But not for the last six weeks and she was becoming unhappy before that. I was thinking to start a half-day, as a trial, just until Piper gets used to it. If she gets too upset I’d probably not go back to work for a while.’ He shrugged his apology.
Apparently she didn’t need it. That serene smile drifted across her face. ‘Being adaptable is good around kids. One of the secrets. She’ll miss you if she’s had you to herself for six weeks.’ A quirked brow made that question.
‘I’m not even sure it’s what I’m ready to do.’
‘That’s fine. You’re fact-finding, which is very sensible.’
Well, he’d better glean some facts. This was harder than he’d thought it would be. He glanced at Catrina and she sat tranquilly beside him, lending moral support, not interrupting. Just there. It felt good not to be on his own through this. ‘What hours do you have available?’
Marni laughed. ‘As I haven’t started yet it’s hard to say. Big picture—Monday to Friday, no more than forty hours, but the hours are flexible. And I get to keep the weekends for the boys and Bob.’
‘Where would she sleep in the daytime?’
‘We’ve a little room next to the boys’ room. Bob put two new folding cots in there and I think it’ll work well. And I’ll supply all the food. No hardship to make for one more and that way nobody wants what others have.’
It all sounded too good to be true. Plus they lived a few doors away from his own house. Even in this short time Piper seemed relaxed here. He gently swung her off his lap, book still in her hands, and rested her bottom on the floor. Just to see if she’d go.
As soon as she hit the floor she dropped the book and crawled curiously towards the two little boys. Stopped about a body’s length away and sat up. The three tiny people all looked at each other.
The adults smiled and Finn felt the tension leave his shoulders. The gods, or Catrina, had saved him again.
‘What about if I go and talk to my prospective employer tomorrow? Perhaps leave Piper here just for an hour and see how she goes while I negotiate? Then we’ll all know more.’
‘Why don’t you make it two hours? That will be a quarter of the time of her next visit, if you decide to go ahead. Just to give her time to settle. And take the rush out of your appointment. She’ll be fine. It will give us all a chance to trial the fit.’
‘I think that sounds like a plan. Yes, please.’ Finn stood up. Blew out a breath. ‘Phew. Thank you. I do feel better for asking and talking to you. That would be great.’ He glanced at Catrina, who stood as well. She smiled at him as if he’d just done an excellent job. It felt good. Reassuring.
Marni went across to the dresser and picked up a business card. ‘Here’s our phone number, and it’s got my mobile on it as well. You can ring or drop in when you know your time. The sheet has information about my business.’ She handed him a sheet of paper with her numbers and the payment rates. Easy.
‘That’s great.’ He picked up Piper, who had crawled over to him as soon as he stood up. She didn’t cling, more curious than panicked he’d leave her. ‘I’ll leave one of my own cards when I bring Piper. Then you can contact me any time.’
‘Give yourself ten extra minutes before you leave her tomorrow. To help her settle.’
He nodded. Then Bob came and shook his hand. Then they were outside and the door closed.
He felt like sagging against it. He’d done it. Another step towards a new life.
‘You didn’t say much.’
Catrina laughed. ‘I didn’t have to. You’re all made for each other.’
CHAPTER TEN (#u289768e0-e4ea-5002-8271-8ee88f0aca8e)
Trina
TRINA’S FIRST MORNING as Midwifery Unit Manager, and her first day shift for a long time, proved too busy to worry about a man she’d met on the beach and declared her friend. Though she had spent a fair time mulling over all the things she’d learnt about Finn the night before.
This morning, in her new world, the midwife coming off shift had celebrated a birth at five a.m., so still lots of settling of mother and baby for Trina to help with before mother left at lunchtime to go home. Another mother who preferred to rest at home, not separated from her toddler, and it made her think of her conversation with Finn yesterday. Finn again. She pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on the new tasks.
There were Monday pharmacy orders and sterile stock orders, and a hospital meeting and a visit from Myra, her neighbour, which lightened a busy time with a quick break.
‘Hello there, new midwife in charge.’ Myra’s serene face peered around the corner of the nurses’ station, where Trina typed efficiently into the discharged mother’s electronic medical records.
‘Hello, Mrs Southwell, what have you got there?’ Myra had a steaming cup and a white paper bag tucked under her arm. Ellie had said that Myra always brought something when the place got busy.
‘A long black with extra water, the way you like it.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘And a savoury tart with spring onion in case you haven’t had lunch.’
Trina glanced at the clock, the hour hand resting on the two. ‘An angel. That’s what you are.’ Though she would pack lunch tomorrow to make sure she had something. She hadn’t realised how hard it could be to get away from the ward to the cafeteria. She’d expected that on night duty but not through the day.
Myra tilted her head to scrutinise her. ‘Have you had time to stop for a few minutes?’
Trina sat back and gestured to the chair beside her. ‘Not yet. But I do now. And I will.’ She took the china mug Myra carried and took a sip before she put it down on the desk beside her. ‘Ah!’ She smiled at the older lady. ‘I seriously needed that.’ She looked at the mug again and picked it up. Took another sip and closed her eyes. ‘The world won’t stop turning if I don’t achieve everything today.’
Myra laughed. ‘Something I’ve learnt since I came here. So how is it going? Is it strange to be on the ward in the daytime?’
Trina glanced around the sunlit reception area. The windows that showed the gardens. The sunlight slanting across the polished wooden floors. ‘It is. And there are so many people I need to talk to.’ She pretended to shudder. ‘Business requirements have given me interaction overload. Present company excluded, of course.’
‘I won’t be offended.’ Myra looked at her with concern. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer sitting in the tea room and I could answer the phone for you while you finish your tart?’
Trina laughed. ‘No. This is a social conversation. Much more fun. Besides, I haven’t seen you for days. How are you? How is married life? Any adventurous plans?’
‘I’m well. Ridiculously content, and I’m trying to talk Reg into coming away with me on a cruising holiday. There’s a last-minute deal that’s breaking my heart not to take.’
Trina could see Myra at a Captain’s Cocktail Party, dressed to the nines in those stunning vintage outfits she seemed to source at will. Trina could never find anything when she looked in the pre-loved section. Or if she did she looked ridiculous. But Myra looked soft and elegant and stunningly stylish. She sighed and let the envy go. She hadn’t really thought much of clothes since Ed. ‘That sounds fun. Does he like the idea?’
‘More than I thought he would. But it all depends if he finds locum relief for the practice. I’m a little keen for him to scale right back but he’s become immersed in the bay and the hospital.’
Trina could see why Myra wanted to play. ‘I haven’t seen him out on his surfboard lately.’
‘He still goes out every Sunday with his son. It’s lovely to see. Says he doesn’t have the need to get out of bed at the crack of dawn now—especially with me in it.’ Myra smiled with just a hint of pink in her cheeks and Trina smiled back.
‘Understandable.’ She thought of Finn. Her own cheeks heated and she dipped her head and took a sip from her mug to hide it. Of course he was the locum Myra hoped for, and of course she wasn’t blushing just because of Myra’s mention of mornings in bed. ‘Is he hopeful of the locum situation?’
Myra sighed. ‘There’s a young doctor in town he’s had a chat with. Some family issue that’s keeping him from starting, but hopefully that will sort soon. If not, I think he should advertise.’
‘I met the one I think he’s talking about. Finlay Foley. He’s a single dad. Has a delightful little one-year-old.’
Myra unwrapped the tart from its white paper bag and pushed it towards Trina. ‘That’s the one. That’s right—Reg said he had a daughter. What’s he like?’
‘He’s an amazing dad. Anyone can see that. It’s a wonder you haven’t seen him walking along the beach with his little girl on his back.’
Myra’s eyes brightened. She lifted her head in delight and glanced towards the general direction of the beach way below, though she wouldn’t be able to see it. ‘Oh. I have seen him. Younger than I expected. I didn’t think of him as a doctor. Looks too young.’ She lowered her voice and said suggestively, ‘And handsome.’
Trina laughed. ‘I used to see them in the mornings after work when I walked. Been here for a month but I’ve only really talked to him this weekend.’ Funny how it felt as if she’d known Finn for ages. What was that? ‘His little girl turned one yesterday. And I did mention Marni as a suggestion for childminding. He’s thinking about it.’
‘Oh, that’s marvellous news. And a really good idea. Marni is the perfect mother to those tiny boys. I might get Reg to give him a nudge—not a big nudger is my Reg. But I would like to catch that sailing if possible.’
Trina laughed. ‘You might have a surprise when you get home, then.’ She picked up the tart and bit into the buttery pastry with slow enjoyment. The tang of Parmesan cheese, fresh spring onions and cream made her eyes roll. She took another bite and savoured. Before she knew, the tart was gone. ‘Goodness, Myra. I should have a standing order for those.’
Myra laughed. ‘My man is a bit pleased with my cooking.’
Trina picked up her coffee and then paused as a thought intruded. If Finn took over Dr Southwell’s practice while he was away, he’d be working in the hospital. And he’d probably walk through Maternity. Might even seek her out as a friendly face. Not that everyone wasn’t friendly at Lighthouse Bay. Maybe he’d even come over if they needed a third for a tricky birth. Their own personal paediatrician.
Her belly seemed to warm and it had nothing to do with food and hot coffee, though they had been good. She finished the last of the coffee not quite in the present moment. It was all positive because he was a paediatrician. Good for those babies that didn’t breathe as well as you expected them to. Oh, my.
‘You look much better for stopping and eating,’ Myra said with some satisfaction. She stood up. ‘I won’t bother you any longer and let you get on before your afternoon midwives come on.’
‘You’re never a bother. More of a life-saver. Thank you.’ She glanced down at the empty crumpled white bag. ‘You’ve made my day.’ In more ways than one.
* * *
Trina finished work at five-thirty that evening and decided to walk quickly down the breakwall and blow the stress of the day away. The administration side of the maternity unit would take a little time to get used to but she’d mastered most of the things that had slowed her up. The joy of finishing work and not having to worry about sleep until it was dark felt like a sweet novelty. Especially when, on her way back, she saw that Finn and Piper, wrapped in scarves, were walking too. Finn swung along effortlessly, the bundle on his back wriggling when she saw Catrina.
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Fiona McArthur и Jennifer Taylor
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Healed By The Midwife′s Kiss: Healed by the Midwife′s Kiss, электронная книга авторов Fiona McArthur и Jennifer Taylor на английском языке, в жанре современные любовные романы