Pregnant Midwife On His Doorstep

by Marion Lennox

  He sniffed the pups.

  Josh was ready to tug him away at the first sign of aggression on either dog’s part, but there was none. Sniffing done, Dudley flopped down on the hearth beside Maisie.

  Both dogs almost visibly relaxed.

  ‘I guess...’ Hannah ventured, awed and a little emotional ‘...we seem to have settled paternity.’

  ‘Right,’ Josh said grimly. ‘Like I needed that.’

  But Hannah grinned. ‘Hey, at last, some good news. That means half the puppies are yours.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Of course they are,’ she said, cheering right up. The responsibility for a dog and four pups was already starting to weigh on her. ‘Sharing’s awesome. Doesn’t the dad have to pay until they finish university, or whatever the doggy equivalent is? Do we need to bring in lawyers, or can we reach an out of court agreement?’

  ‘I don’t... They’re nothing to do with me.’

  ‘DNA testing it is, then,’ she said, her smile widening. ‘You stand not a snowball’s chance in a wildfire of getting out of this one. Spay your dog, Dr O’Connor.’

  ‘He’s not my dog!’

  ‘Really?’ She raised her brows.

  ‘And he’s neutered!’

  ‘Is that so?’ she said, trying for bland, but the corners of her mouth twitched into an irresistible chuckle. ‘You know, as a midwife I’ve learned to accept what people tell me about paternity, but in this case... I’ll go bail we’re looking at the biological parents.’

  ‘Oh, of course they’ll be Dudley’s,’ he said with a groan. ‘But half the fault will be Moira’s. Why she didn’t tell me she had an unneutered bitch...’

  ‘Did you tell her you had an unneutered dog?’

  ‘She knew. And he’s neutered.’

  ‘Really?’ Her eyebrows gave a polite, disbelieving quirk and he sighed.

  ‘Okay. Quick background. I bought this land two years ago. It belonged to a guy who was a bigger hermit than Moira, and even older. He had an almost derelict hut over the ridge from this place, and he needed cash to settle debts and reserve a spot in a decent nursing home when he needed it. He didn’t want to sell but it seemed he had no choice and he’d reluctantly talked to a realtor. I came and chatted and we agreed I could buy, on the condition he could stay where he was for as long as he wanted.

  ‘I headed overseas. My house was built by contractors, well out of sight of his hut. Then, just before I arrived back, his son contacted me to say the old man had had a stroke and was finally moving. The day I arrived he was gone and Dudley was on my veranda.’

  She winced. ‘A dumped dog.’

  ‘I hadn’t even known he’d had a dog,’ Josh told her. ‘When I went over to the abandoned hut I saw why. There was a stake in the backyard with a kennel, with a circular rut around the stake, trodden a foot deep. It seems Dudley had been pretty much chained full time. The son had obviously unchained him and left. When I saw Moira she shouted at me to do something. She’d been tossing him food since the old man left but she wasn’t taking any more responsibility.’ He shrugged. ‘So I fed him, dewormed him and tried to settle the worst of his neuroses. A couple of months back I finally decided he’d be mine for life and had him neutered, but it seems...’ He looked down at the squirming pile of pups. ‘Not soon enough.’

  ‘Well,’ Hannah said, watching him, thinking...well, thinking good things. ‘Well, well. I’m starting to think you’re a very nice man, Dr O’Connor. You’re a man prepared to haul drowning women and dogs out of cars. A man prepared to deliver pups by Caesarean at a moment’s notice. A man prepared to put a stray midwife up for the night in the face of a truly appalling storm. And a man prepared to take on the responsibility of a litter of unwanted puppies.’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t say...’ he started, startled, but her smile widened.

  ‘You didn’t have to. I’m starting to figure you out. Squishy in the middle is you, Dr O’Connor.’

  But then she winced. She’d been nestled on the floor but her back, never friendly at this stage of pregnancy, reminded her that it didn’t like being in this position—or indeed any position for very long. And it had been bumped. She’d been bumped.

  She felt safer than she’d felt at any time since her toe-rag of a boyfriend had walked out on her, but right now a wash of weariness hit her like a wall. A twinge of back pain became an unbearable ache, and the need to sleep was almost overwhelming.

  And Josh saw.

  ‘You’re exhausted,’ he said, rising, holding his hands down to hers to help her up. ‘I shouldn’t have kept you talking. Let’s talk about puppy custody tomorrow. Right now, it’s bedtime.’

  ‘Do you...? Is there a spare bed?’

  ‘There is,’ he said, grasping her hands. ‘Madison helped design this house and she supervised its furnishings while I was overseas. Which means there’s a Madison bedroom that’s furnished with every conceivable luxury—at my expense, of course.’

  He tugged her up. She rose and was suddenly close. Very close.

  Too close?

  And, strangely, all at once the storm seemed louder. Despite its ferocity, it had somehow become an almost unnoticed background to the domesticity of the fire, of the meal, of the dogs and the shared confidences. Now suddenly she was aware of the gusts blasting around the building, and of spatters of whatever was being hurled against the roof, against the shutters.

  She felt herself shudder. It must be the after-effects of the day, she thought, of the nightmare she’d been through.

  And then she felt her knees sag. For heaven’s sake, what was happening?

  But Josh’s hands were holding hers and his hold tightened. His hands dropped to her waist to stop her falling.

  What on earth... He was too close—she was too close—but she wasn’t pulling away.

  This man had saved her and he seemed...her rock.

  It was as much as she could do not to cling.

  Um...whoops? She was clinging. Why didn’t her knees want to hold her up?

  ‘Hey,’ he said softly, speaking into her hair, still holding her strongly. ‘You’re knackered. I shouldn’t have let you sit up for so long. It’s bed for you, sweetheart.’

  ‘I’m not... I’m not your sweetheart.’ Memories of that appalling note from Ryan...

  And he got it. ‘Of course you’re not,’ he said gently. ‘Let’s put it another way. You’re exhausted, Hannah Byrne. Plus you’re battered, bruised and eight months pregnant. So let’s delineate our roles in the future. For the duration of the surgical procedure we’ve just performed I’ve needed you to be my colleague. We’ve debriefed afterwards, sharing personal confidences that might or might not assist us to move forward in a professional capacity. We’ve also decided on the welfare status of four newborns with previously indeterminate parentage. But the professional need for Hannah Byrne has ended. She’s off duty. She’s now an eight-month pregnant primigravida in my care. So, Ms Byrne, as your consulting physician, it’s bedtime. Now.’

  And before she knew what he was about he’d lifted her into his arms and was carrying her toward the bedroom.

  He’d done it when they’d arrived. It had discombobulated her then when she’d been discombobulated already. Now...discombobulated was too small a word for it.

  She felt weak, dumb, out of control...and cherished.

  And it wasn’t such a bad feeling, she decided as he strode down the passage with her in his arms. She had no intention of staying weak, dumb and out of control, but while she was, while her knees were like jelly and while she had the stupid shakes...why not lie back in this man’s arms and savour the strength of him? Savour the feeling that she was safe, cared for, and there was nothing she needed to do but submit?

  Oh, right. How politically incorrect was that? Helpless maiden being swept up by knight on white charger...

  S
he couldn’t help it. She giggled.

  ‘What?’ He kicked the bedroom door open and carried her over to the bed. Somehow, using one hand to hold her, he tugged back the covers and laid her on clean sheets. How did he do that?

  ‘You need a horse and a suit of armour and a lance,’ she managed, and he looked puzzled for a moment and then grinned.

  ‘I doubt I’d have been able to pull you out of the water if I was wearing armour. And you...you should have been wearing a flowing gown and...what’s that thing all good maidens in distress wear on their heads? A mantilla?’

  ‘I left it at home,’ she said mournfully, and then she took his hand and got serious. ‘Josh, thank you so much.’

  ‘Hey, that’s fine,’ he said gently. ‘It’s not every day I get to play knight errant.’

  ‘You did it brilliantly,’ she told him, and then she couldn’t help herself. For some dumb reason her eyes welled with tears and she found herself tugging his hand against her cheek. ‘I’d be dead without you.’

  ‘Not you.’ He stooped and laid a finger on her cheek. ‘You’d have saved yourself and your dog because that’s the kind of woman you are, Hannah Byrne. Don’t you forget it. Now, is there anything else you need?’

  ‘An alarm clock,’ she managed, swiping away a dumb tear. ‘Give me four hours’ sleep and I’ll take over the next Maisie watch.’

  ‘I don’t have an alarm but I’ll wake you.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She eyed him suspiciously. ‘Why don’t I believe you? Josh, please...’

  ‘I’ll call you when I need you,’ he told her, and then, before she realised what he was about, he kissed her gently. On the lips.

  It was a fleeting kiss. Maybe meant for forehead rather than mouth? It was the sort of kiss a parent might give a child as they said goodnight.

  It burned.

  Her hands flew to her lips and she stared up at him in confusion.

  She saw matching confusion in his gaze. He backed away from the bed as if...he was afraid?

  ‘Goodnight,’ he told her, hurriedly now. ‘Madison’s set up the en suite with everything a guest could possibly want. Feel free to use anything—I know she won’t mind. Call me if you need anything else.’

  ‘There’s nothing.’ Her voice sounded funny. She felt funny. He was at the door, looking like he needed to bolt but he wasn’t sure how to. ‘I... Thank you. Goodnight Josh.’

  ‘Goodnight, Hannah,’ he said, and left and closed the door behind him.

  He returned to the living room and sank into the fireside chair. Outside the wind was screaming, but here seemed a cocoon of warmth and safety. Even Dudley, who’d spent the day cowering and whimpering, seemed to have relaxed. He lay a little back from Maisie, enough to give her and her pups room. His eyes were mostly closed, as if in contentment, but every now and then they’d lazily open and glance across at the little family in their pink nest.

  Checking on his woman?

  That was sort of like he was feeling, Josh conceded, as the idea occurred that he’d kind of like Hannah to be settled on the settee, here in this room, so he could watch over her, too.

  Which was crazy. Hannah wasn’t recovering from an anaesthetic. There was no risk to her baby.

  Why did he feel so protective?

  It was natural, he told himself. He’d hauled her out of danger, she had been in trouble and he was only human.

  The storm was doing its best to destroy his house. He was appallingly concerned for Mick and Skye and their children—his helplessness to do anything about their plight was doing his head in. He’d been landed with yet another needy dog, plus four puppies.

  His mind stayed stubbornly on Hannah.

  He wanted her where he could watch her. The fierceness of the storm made him feel like gathering close everything he cared about...

  Cared?

  Yeah, okay, he cared, he conceded, raking his fingers through his hair. But only for tonight, no longer. He’d made a vow not to care.

  Even Madison... He loved his big sister but Alice’s death lay between them like a wall of ice, and there was nothing that could be said or done to break it.

  His parents had been disparate, a couple who should never have married. They were currently overseas, his mother climbing an Alp somewhere—he’d need to check Facebook to know where. His father was no doubt doing something important for the government—in Vienna? Or was Vienna last month?

  He’d been buying into their life. He’d thought it through over the last pain-filled years, remembering the whole successful surgeon, ego-driven idiot he’d become. He couldn’t think of it now without revulsion.

  His parents had flown back for Alice’s funeral. They’d made a token attempt to be there for him during the worst of his convalescence, but when he’d told them he was managing fine—he wasn’t—they’d disappeared again with relief.

  His sisters, though, had been his real family. They’d always been a part of him, his core, so of course Madison had stuck around. She’d always be there for him, and he for her, but the pain they saw reflected in each other’s eyes was enough for both of them to acknowledge the ice wall.

  He only had to glance in the mirror to know how much pain loving another could do. How easily he could get hurt. His wall was his survival mechanism.

  Why, tonight, did it seem like he hated it?

  It didn’t matter. The wall was there.

  He rose and poured himself a whisky. Whiskey. Irish. Both Dudley and Maisie watched him cross the room and then come back to them.

  ‘It’s okay, guys,’ he told them. He stared down into his Irish whiskey and grimaced. ‘I know my boundaries. My place is on this side of the wall.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE WOKE TO the sound of crashing. Something was hitting something. Something tinny. Something loud.

  It took her moments to struggle out of sleep, to figure where she was, to remember the events of the night before. To remember that this place was built like a fort. That Josh was somewhere in the house, keeping things safe.

  Josh. Storm. Banging.

  Her room had wide windows but they were strongly shuttered. Chinks of light were making their way through the slats, though. It must be morning.

  Josh had been going to wake her.

  Had he slept himself? He wouldn’t have, she thought. She knew enough of the man to know that he’d have been too aware of the risks of Maisie rolling.

  How did she know?

  She just did.

  But, drat, she’d had enough of his heroism. She could have taken a dog-watching shift. Did he want to make her totally beholden to him?

  That wasn’t a kind thing to think, she decided, but as she rose and stomped across to the en suite she was not enjoying the fact that Josh O’Connor was playing the martyr.

  The sight of herself in the mirror stopped her short.

  She’d taken Josh at his word when he’d said Madison wouldn’t mind her using her things. She’d found a nightgown big enough to fit over her bump, and fluffy one-size-fits-all slippers. Josh’s bathrobe—she guessed it had to be his because it was brown and anything belonging to Madison seemed to be pink or lavender—made her look almost respectable. She was a bit sore here and there, but mostly she felt fine.

  She didn’t look even close to fine.

  Her car’s airbag had gone off as the bridge had tumbled. It had slammed into her face, and she’d had to fight it off as she’d struggled to get out. There’d been timbers at head height.

  Her face was a myriad of scratches and bruises.

  If she’d been a nurse on duty and someone like her had arrived in Casualty, she’d have been calling for back-up.

  It was all superficial, though, she thought, studying bruises and scratches with a professional eye. Bruises always looked
worse the day after. There was nothing there to excuse Josh from his promise to wake her for puppy sentry duty.

  Except she was eight months pregnant.

  Again her professional self intervened to give her a lecture. If the roles were reversed she’d have broken her promise, too.

  It didn’t make her feel any less guilty, though. He’d put his life at risk by saving her. Her dog, her problems, had had him sit up all night.

  She wouldn’t yell at him. She’d just go out and tell him to get some sleep now.

  She tucked his bathrobe more securely around her bump. It really was the most gorgeous bathrobe—and did it smell ever so slightly of him? Whatever, for some dumb reason it made her feel...hugged? Maybe that was too big a word but, whatever, she felt not only warmer in it but safer.

  Chiding herself for ridiculous thoughts, she headed out to the living room.

  The fire was burning low and the dogs were soundly asleep, Maisie in her nest, Dudley just out of it but his nose almost touching Maisie’s.

  Four tiny, blind worms of puppies were lying peacefully attached to their mother’s teats. A family of dogs, seemingly utterly content.

  No Josh.

  She frowned.

  The dogs woke as she opened the door, raised their heads to look a polite enquiry. Nothing to see here, their look said. Maisie knew her well, and Dudley had obviously accepted her as part of the furniture. Two tails gave perfunctory wags and they returned to the important task of sleeping.

  Hannah smiled. Maisie’s instant alertness, her tail wag and then her contented return to sleep told her the effects of the anaesthetic were well past. They looked like dogs who needed nothing.

  So had Josh headed to bed?

  She made her way cautiously back down the passage. His bedroom door stood open.

  No Josh.

  His bedroom was an almost complete opposite to Madison’s. The bed was made with military precision. There were no paintings. No photographs. Nothing personal.

  She took a fast mental tour back through his house, remembering only tasteful prints. The unknown Madison, she thought, imagining Josh’s older sister leafing through online catalogues while Josh let her do as she willed. She could almost hear his brief—‘nothing personal, nothing that hurt too much to remember.’