They lived in different worlds, had different agendas, so he had no faith at all that it could have possibly worked, despite the undeniable sexual attraction he didn’t have to remember to acknowledge.
When it all boiled down to it, Roslyn and he had been from the same world and they had definitely struggled.
The sound of a car screeching into the emergency-department driveway pushed his butt out of the chair. Yes. Thank you. A welcome distraction.
Zac grabbed hygienic gloves and beat the rest of the staff to the front, where he was halted by a distraught man at the ambulance entrance.
The tall, blond bloke threw open his door and hurried to the rear of the car. ‘Thank God! Zac.’
Zac shot a quick look at his face and recognised a much thinner and more haggard Jock. ‘Hana’s in labour. She’s thirty-three weeks – too early.’
‘Got it.’ Zac turned to the nurse behind him. ‘Leave the wheelchair for me. Get maternity down here.’
Zac shelved Jock’s appearance for another time as he concentrated on the young woman in the rear seat of the car. He opened the door and leaned his hand on the seat next to her. ‘Hello there, Hana. You scored me. Okay if I help until the midwives arrive?’
The young woman turned huge, frightened eyes towards him and then drew a shaky breath to calm herself. ‘Zac.’ She blinked. Then she said firmly, ‘I think the baby is coming, Zac.’
Zac glanced behind him. ‘The nurse has gone to ring maternity. Let’s get you out and into this wheelchair.’ He offered Hana his arm. ‘You’re doing fine. Tell me what you’re feeling now.’
Hana drew another shuddering breath and swallowed. ‘I think there’s something hanging out down there and I don’t know whether to push or what.’
Zac had the strangest feeling that he was being divinely tested, and the urge to foster calmness felt stronger than anything. ‘Well, we’ll find out very soon, but could I have a quick look in case I have to catch a little someone?’ He met Hana’s eyes and smiled, and Hana lifted her bottom and pulled her trousers down to her knees in a no-nonsense movement. ‘Of … course.’ She panted and gestured her permission with a wave. ‘Go … ahead.’
It was awkward but not impossible for Zac to see what was happening, a task made no easier by the dim light. There was a baby, but if he wasn’t mistaken it was coming bottom first. Were breech babies a Central Australian speciality? Not really statistically surprising, as thirty-three-week babies were often breech. At least this one wouldn’t fall anywhere dangerous except inside the baggy trouser legs, Zac thought wryly.
‘Not coming head first. Let’s meet the rest of your baby in a more comfortable place. What do you think?’
Hana gave a strangled laugh of relief as she agreed.
‘Good girl. Can you climb out backwards, maybe slither along on your bottom and I’ll lift you into the chair? We’ll get you inside so we can see what’s going on.’
‘I’m scared to move. Here comes another pain.’
Jock’s head poked around Zac’s. ‘Is she having it?’
‘Yes,’ Zac answered calmly. Then in an even softer tone, ‘That’s okay. Breathe through it. You’re doing fine. But we need to get you inside and the maternity staff are coming. I bet your baby would much prefer to be born on clean sheets.’ A fervent agreement came from behind his head and Hana grinned.
Something or someone kept chanting in his head, reminding him that if this was happening smoothly they’d be fine, and not to touch anything yet.
Zac turned his head and waved to someone behind him to push the wheelchair closer to the car. He gave Hana his arm and together they inched her along the seat. As soon as she was at the door and the contraction finished, he put his arms around Hana on one side and Jock took the other, and they lifted her into the wheelchair. She was inside and onto the waiting gurney before she’d barely taken a breath.
The nurses whipped a curtain around and Hana’s pants were swiftly pulled off. ‘Lying on my back’s no good,’ she gasped, and tried to shift on the narrow trolley.
‘Stay there. The doctor needs to see,’ the nurse said briskly, at the same time as Zac said, ‘That’s fine. Move where you need to.’ He shook his head apologetically at the nurse and gave his arm to Hana again to help her roll onto her knees. As soon as she knelt the baby began to descend in a smooth downward arc, and with a sudden flick that startled everyone except Zac, first one and then the other leg plopped out.
‘Good grief,’ said the nurse.
‘Perfect,’ Zac said, and hovered nearby without touching, and marvelled at the jiggling of the baby’s legs as it wriggled its way out. Umbilicus, nipples, one arm, second arm and the baby sat, head still inside, and all the time Zac felt as though a calm voice were describing what would happen next. Zac took the warmed towel the nurse offered, still not touching the baby.
Behind him, he ignored the sounds of others arriving, as the baby descended further. He waited, his hands still, ready for the tiny chin to drop and the face to fall into sight, allowing gravity to do the tricky traction of a breech birth all by itself.
Across from him three nurses watched open-mouthed. Hana gasped, Jock swayed, and the baby’s head freed and dropped. Zac caught the little face as it fell into his hands. He closed his eyes for a second, holding the weight of the baby as a medley of images of another breech birth passed through his mind.
Just like this. The world swirled, and he rested the baby on the bed until the kaleidoscope stopped. One still photograph in his mind gelled. Ava, in another time, in another place, and two baby boys.
On automatic pilot, he handed the baby to the paediatrician, who checked Hana’s baby as the midwife, one so suddenly, so dearly familiar, hurried into the room.
Concentrate on what you’re doing! his mind yelled. He turned towards Hana to find Ava had helped her flip onto her back, with her baby on the way to her arms. Suddenly she gasped again, and looked up to catch Zac’s gaze, her eyes widening in question.
He saw the gush of blood. ‘Placenta,’ he said simply.
She sighed and relaxed. ‘I didn’t think it was twins.’
Zac delivered the placenta into an awaiting dish and stepped away. ‘Done.’
The paed, who’d paused for the third stage to be completed, passed the baby to Hana. Her little girl. Zac watched the tiny bundle be drawn safely into her mother’s arms and blew out a long breath.
Finally Zac’s eyes met Ava’s.
‘Congratulations,’ she said, but she looked straight through him as she turned towards Hana and Jock. Was that to them or to him? Did it matter? All he knew was that he felt bereft and he’d thrown away the best thing he’d ever found.
Zac saw that Ava had turned her shoulder to assist Hana to position the baby safely. The bed rails were pulled up. Sweet memories were crowding in his brain. He could just hear Ava’s murmuring voice as the pictures in his mind twisted again in the vivid kaleidoscope. ‘She’s so beautiful,’ Ava said as she bent to catch the tiny baby’s waving hand, and he wished he’d taken an extra glance at the newborn, but his mind had been whirling.
Jock stood stock-still in awe, watching, and Zac didn’t miss the glint of tears bumping down the man’s unshaven cheek. Emotion stung his own throat as he looked at him. Poor bloke. He’d had the wildest few weeks of his life, but hopefully this would be the start of a new chapter for them.
Ava was hugging her brother now. ‘I’m so excited for you all. We’ll push the bed straight to the special-care nursery and she’ll stay toasty warm on Hana’s skin until the paeds can check her out again up there.’
Hana said something he missed and Ava responded. ‘India, that’s beautiful. After Mim’s middle name? How fabulous.’
Then Jock said something and Ava shook her head. ‘No. India’s breathing fine. She’s a fighter like her mum. You were amazing, Hana. Congratulations.’ He could hear the quiet joy in Ava’s voice as he stood back from them, rightly, on the outside of a family he was nothing to
.
It seemed Ava had wrangled it so Hana could keep hold of her baby for the transfer upstairs. Skin to skin. One of Ava’s pet crusades. He remembered that too, now.
Of course she was far too busy to look at him as they moved. Zac glanced back at the paed, a friendly face in all the drama, who smiled at him and said, ‘Nice delivery.’
With a half-smile that he couldn’t contain, he indicated Ava with a nod of his head. ‘I had a good teacher.’
‘You’re a good student,’ the paed said as she hurried away to follow the bed.
Zac moved sideways from the bed to elbow on the taps at the sink and stripped off his gloves. Silently, he rinsed and soaped his hands. The rhythmic washing of his wrists gave him the privacy to allow the memories to wash over him. The crash, the tumbling, the stop, and the sight of Ava injured. He’d thought she’d died. Or worse, had been rendered brain dead. He breathed deeply to clear the swirl of images in his head. The horror to end all horrors.
Now it was all there. Right from the start.
Being in the aircraft with Ava’s laughing face next to his, the crazy ride in the taxi and the wild, uninhibited, explosive night when they’d made love until all hours of the morning.
And the next four days.
He remembered the ring.
He remembered Yulara.
The ring made so much sense now. He could remember his euphoria when he’d bought it. How could the memory of how much he loved Ava have been buried so deep? It was unbelievable, really.
Lord, he remembered Yulara and the emotion and joy and anticipation as they’d headed out to the perfect spot for him to properly propose.
All of his memory had returned. As he dried his hands, still feeling dazed, he caught sight of Ava’s disappearing back as she helped push the gurney upstairs. Her brother, Jock, was beside her.
No wonder she had looked through him when he’d told her all hope was gone. She’d had to deal with that final loss of faith.
Others had taken over. He saw a nurse sitting on the chair, pale and stunned. She glanced up and he smiled and shrugged. ‘Things can turn out well if you allow the presence of trust,’ he told her. Like Ava had told him after they’d helped deliver the twins. And hopefully, that would work.
Trust in Ava – that would be what he’d have to do now.
Chapter Fifty
Hana
Hana lay in the dark, listening to babies cry in the maternity ward – not hers, though – with Jock sleeping next to her on the trundle bed in her room. She could hear his breathing, a sound she would never, ever take for granted, and she counted her blessings in a fervent prayer of gratitude.
Her fingers stroked the polaroid photo of India that Ava had taken before they left the special-care nursery, even though it was too dark to see her daughter’s features. She didn’t need to see. Her daughter had blonde hair, and deep-blue eyes like all babies – she laughed at herself. But she bet India would have eyes like her dad’s. She had his beautiful mouth and that funny tip on one ear.
Hana had held her for the start of her life against her skin, warm and so incredibly soft, stickily secured to her until she’d needed to be lifted into the crib in the special-care nursery. And she was so thankful for that brief time of connection that could never be taken away. But India had been impatient to arrive and they would have to be patient before she could stay with them without observation.
Thanks to her darling Jock, who had managed to get here in time through some inventive short cuts and magnificent driving. All that off-road racing had honed his skills – there hadn’t been much time to spare once she’d been woken by her waters breaking.
And thanks to Zac’s gentle handling of her birth.
And Ava. Dear Ava. Smoothing and explaining and making sure she and Jock were involved in all decisions for their daughter’s wellbeing. Gliding in to check on her in the dark, whispering little snippets of what was going on with India as she found out, checking that Hana was well and comfortable and happy. Laughingly telling her that of course it wasn’t strange she was awake after such excitement.
Hana sighed and blew a kiss to her darling Jock. Blew a kiss in the direction of her new daughter. Then she closed her eyes. Her daughter was safe. The doctors said she was perfect, just early, and India would grow and grow until she came home, where she would evolve into another strong May woman.
Like her mother.
And her aunty.
And her grandmother and great-grandmother.
Things would work out just as they should. Hana was blessed.
Chapter Fifty-one
Ava
In the few brief occasions she’d had time to think during the long, busy night on the maternity ward, Ava had smiled with a mixture of fierce soaring pride and plunging bittersweet regret at the memory of Zac’s management of Hana’s birth. He may not have remembered Jessamine’s breech births, but he’d done everything right tonight and she wished she could tell him so.
It could have turned out much differently for Hana and her baby if the precipitate delivery had been managed by someone who hadn’t been able to trust and leave well alone until needed. Baby and mum were both great thanks to Zac.
Ava was also thankful to have been lucky enough to be there for the end, to see the birth and to be with her brother and his wife this morning. It was a shame it had been so busy and she hadn’t had much time to visit the special-care nursery to soak in her new niece and the starry-eyed wonder of Jock’s joy. Hana, of course, had been amazing.
Yes, Zac had been great, but Ava wouldn’t tell him. She couldn’t tell him.
Because she was done.
Finished.
Over.
The pain of loss was too great and she’d be going home to her family as soon as Hana left the hospital. She wouldn’t be back in Alice until he’d gone. She might even go to Weipa.
Zac Logan had been a comet in her past and their love had disappeared without a telltale trail.
A little break in Arnhem Land sounds perfect, she thought, jollying herself along. It was nice to think of somewhere different. During her uni studies for nursing, she’d shone in tropical medicine, and the lure of steamy – as opposed to searing, oven-like – heat had always seemed particularly exotic to her.
Her mother and grandmother were strong single women. She could be one too.
She would not see Zac Logan again.
Except when the clock reached seven-thirty, and she pushed open the ward’s door, a tall, dark-haired, serious man was waiting for her in the hallway.
And as had happened once before, he asked simply, ‘Can we meet for breakfast?’
Another fragile part of her heart broke. ‘No.’
There, she’d said it.
Except this time he added, ‘At our hotel?’
She frowned at the ‘our’, and notwithstanding her brain shrieking no, and all the arguments she’d assembled in a neat stack that now threatened to topple onto her, she sighed. He’d said ‘our hotel’. Her mouth opened to refuse again, but instead she heard herself say, ‘I’ll be there in a while.’
And here she was. Why am I doing this to myself? she asked herself for the millionth time.
He stood when he saw her enter and remained by the table – the same table – with her tea waiting, and the same waiter hovering nearby.
Zac came around to meet her, and instead of pulling out her chair he took her hand and lifted her fingers to his lips, then kissed her palm. ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. Then he pulled her towards him, gently, slowly, watching her face, asking her with his eyes to trust him, staring into her soul as if she was the woman he loved more than life itself.
Oh, too, too cruel. I can’t do this. Her chest struggled to get enough air. ‘I can’t do rejection again, Zac. What are you doing?’ She stared at him for a second more and then, incredulously, felt the realisation crash in on her.
‘I remember,’ he said simply.
‘You’re back?
; He nodded.
‘You remember?’ she asked again, afraid to believe.
Again he nodded. Her eyes stung and she blinked away the distortion of tears because she wanted to stare at him. To see in his face that it was true. He looked like he wanted to crush her to him, just as somebody cleared their throat, and they both glanced around at the interested breakfast diners.
Zac lifted his head, daring anyone to complain, and stepped closer to her. ‘My poor, darling Ava.’ He pulled her against his chest, wrapped his big, beautiful, loving arms around her, and for the first time in weeks she felt herself come alive. His smile made her want to melt. ‘I really did hope I would remember,’ he said, and his other hand came up and trapped her face to hold her still, as if he intended to infinitely savour the next moment. She held still, barely able to wait.
Their lips touched, ever so gently, and with the first warmth of his mouth, the first inhalation of his breath, her breath caught and held as she too remembered. When his mouth brushed hers again, and his hands slid down to pull her closer against him, all the memories rushed back because she knew this was what she’d hoped for.
‘I remember,’ he repeated, his voice low and vibrant. ‘I remember it all. Everything came back after Hana gave birth.’
‘Everything?’ She didn’t think she could believe this after he had sat here yesterday and said the opposite.
‘All of it. All of you. All of us.’ Then he pulled back and gazed deeply into her eyes. ‘You’re so pale,’ he said and hurriedly pulled out her chair. ‘What have I done to you? Sit.’
She sank into the chair, suddenly glad to be off her jelly legs. He kept hold of her hand as he went around the table to his own chair, watching her the whole time, then caught her other hand so he had all of her fingers – like he was waltzing around her. Her hands looked so small in his. Clasped in his.
The Desert Midwife Page 27
