Pregnant Midwife On His Doorstep

by Marion Lennox

  ‘What, am I a kid?’

  ‘For the purpose of the exercise, yes.’

  ‘Hannah, we can’t—’

  ‘Have wild hot sex while sharing a double bed?’ She grinned. ‘How did I know you were thinking that?’

  ‘I wasn’t!’

  ‘What? Not horny as hell over an eight-month-pregnant woman in your sister’s stretched-to-bursting too-frilly nightie when you’re almost dead on your feet with fatigue? I don’t believe it.’ Her grin widened. ‘But I’ll risk it. Go on, get yourself into bed. I’ll check the kids and the dogs, make tea and toast, and bring you some. But what’s the betting you’re asleep before I return?’

  She was right. He slept.

  She’d taken her time in the kitchen, wanting Josh to settle. Then she’d made him his tea and toast and carried it through to the bedroom.

  One look at the unconscious Josh had her returning to the kitchen with the unwanted snack. ‘Hey, I’m eating for two,’ she told herself with satisfaction, and enjoyed her second snack almost as much as her first.

  Finally it was time to return to bed, but a part of her was niggly with unease. Her suggestion to share was surely sensible but there was a little voice saying it was unwise.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, even if we managed to have hot sex there’d hardly be consequences,’ she muttered at last, and tiptoed to the bed and slid under the covers.

  He had his back to her. Madison’s bed was a double but only just.

  As she slid in beside him their bodies touched and she felt him shudder.

  He was wearing only boxers. His chest, his arms were bare, and she couldn’t mistake the tremor.

  ‘Josh?’

  No answer. He seemed deeply asleep.

  So why the tremor?

  She lay in the dark, listening to the storm outside but thinking of this man’s history. Of a trauma that had never been forgotten. In the last two days he’d come appallingly close to more tragedy.

  There was no weakness in this man. She knew it but she also knew he’d built his armour so his strength could be rebuilt from within.

  Not from without. Not by needing people. Not by accepting...care.

  She felt the tremor again. There was probably no need for her to intervene, but if this was a nightmare...

  Of course it was a nightmare.

  She was a nurse. It was her job to care. To stop nightmares.

  That was a good, practical way of looking at it, she thought, and before she could think further—because why would she?—she edged closer and wrapped her arms around his broad back. It was a bit tricky with her bump, but it felt okay.

  It felt right.

  He was still shuddering. She tightened her hold and whispered against his skin, ‘Josh, it’s okay.’ She could feeling her breath waft back at her. ‘Everyone’s safe. All’s well, Josh, love. Sleep, sleep and sleep.’

  And for a moment she felt him stiffen. Had she woken him?

  ‘It’s only me,’ she whispered. ‘Your inconvenient friend, Hannah. I’ll let you go if you want but, Josh, the kids are safe. Mick and Skye are safe. Even the puppies are safe. You’ve saved us all. You did good, Josh. Now sleep.’

  And blessedly she felt his body relax. His breathing eased, deep and steady.

  ‘Sleep,’ she whispered again, and the feel of his back, cocooned against her breast, seemed to have the same soporific effect on her.

  She slept.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JOSH WOKE TO SILENCE. The constant howling of the last two days was gone, and in its place...peace.

  And warmth.

  He had a woman in his arms.

  Hannah.

  He had no memory of her coming to bed. Or maybe he did. He recalled a whisper of a sensation, and then her touch, the sound of her soft voice and his dreams abandoning him. Then only sleep.

  But somehow in the night he must have stirred, moved, held her in turn.

  She was lying facing him, her curls splayed on the pillow, her face lovely in sleep.

  Lovely. She truly was.

  His arm was lying under the soft swell of her breasts, cradling her. How had that happened?

  He was so close he could feel her breathing. He could feel her warmth under her flimsy nightgown.

  He felt more at peace than he’d felt for three long years, or maybe even longer. For ever?

  Which was crazy. This was the result of exhaustion, he thought, plus the release of the tension and the danger of the past few days.

  Sunlight was edging through the chinks in the shutters. Morning. He needed to check Mick.

  As if on cue, there was a wail from somewhere in the house, not of distress but of indignation.

  ‘He’s finished the Vegemite. I wanted Vegemite on my toast.’

  ‘Uh-oh.’ Hannah stirred and woke smiling. Or maybe, like him, she’d been awake and savouring this extraordinary moment. Smiling inwardly even before she opened her eyes. ‘Do you not have back-up Vegemite, Dr O’Connor? I call that a major fail. You realise you could well risk a report to the medical board.’

  ‘Not guilty,’ he said. He should remove his arm, but it seemed to have no intention of moving. Nothing felt like moving. Here was peace.

  Here was...home?

  With difficulty he forced his mind back to practical. ‘Vegemite’s my staple,’ he managed. ‘There should be two more jars in the storeroom.’

  ‘So who gets up to tell them?’

  ‘Let ’em eat honey,’ he murmured, and she chuckled. She had the most glorious chuckle.

  But then... ‘Mick,’ she said, and they both knew the moment had ended. If there’d been any problem, Skye would have come to tell them, but it was over four hours since Mick had had a proper check. And with the wind gone, it was time for the outside world to intrude.

  Mick needed medical evacuation—that leg needed to be set by an expert—and they could all leave with him. Skye had told them last night that her mother lived in the city and would welcome them. They could stay with her while Mick recovered and they tried to figure what to do about their ruined home.

  Moira’s body would be removed by the authorities, to await a coroner’s report and burial. With that link to the island gone, Hannah would return to her hospital apartment to await the birth of her baby.

  Maisie and the pups were probably officially Hannah’s. Could she keep them in her hospital apartment?

  Regardless, he’d be left with his solitude. Which was what he wanted.

  Wasn’t it?

  Hannah lifted his arm—with reluctance?—and edged back, rolling to her side so she could read his face.

  ‘Help will come now?’

  ‘We’re on a priority list. The sea will still be huge but there’ll be choppers. Mick needs skilled orthopaedic surgery to stop permanent damage to that leg. With a death and a serious injury I imagine we’ll be top priority. I’ve said six people need urgent evacuation. Plus there’s Moira.’

  There was a moment’s silence and then...

  ‘Josh, can I stay?’

  He stilled. His gut said yes. It was so much what he was thinking.

  But then sense took over—of course it did.

  ‘Why would you want to stay?’

  She sat up then, tugging the covers up to her breast, as if she was putting distance between them.

  ‘A few reasons,’ she said diffidently. ‘And before you say no, I’m not asking if I can stay here. Not in your house. But someone has to clear Moira’s house and that someone needs to be me. There’ll be all sorts of things that need to be organised. And Maisie and her pups... I don’t know if I can look after them where I’m living now.’

  ‘It’s not safe for you to stay,’ he said, automatically in medical mode. ‘You’re eight months pregnant. There’s no bridge.’

&n
bsp; ‘But once the sea settles—and it should settle within the next twenty-four hours—the jetty will be useable. I know there are water taxis at Stingray Bay. I could call one the moment I go into labour. There’s a medical clinic at the Bay, so I’d have immediate help, and if a taxi’s not fast enough I could get an ambulance to Townsville. And, of course, if the weather even looks like turning again I’d leave immediately.’

  ‘It’s a bad idea.’

  ‘It’s not ideal but when else am I going to deal with this?’ she reasoned. ‘After my baby’s born? Moira’s house will be a mess, and who knows how demanding my baby will be? And there’s no one else—Moira cut herself off from everybody. I need to spend a few days here, sorting and cleaning. I’ll organise a funeral for Moira over at Stingray Bay, then pack up anything of value, get rid of the perishables, lock it and leave. I’ve already organised a bigger apartment in Townsville. I just need to get permission to have Maisie there. You know, in the long run Mick and Skye might be interested in Moira’s house, but that’s for the future. I don’t even know what her will says. She might have left the house to a dogs’ home for all I know, but for now the responsibility must be mine.’

  ‘You really have been planning.’

  ‘Just a little,’ she said, and her face lit with a trace of mischief. ‘I wasn’t all that tired, and for half an hour or so earlier on you were snoring.’

  ‘Snoring! I couldn’t have been.’

  ‘Definitely snoring,’ she told him, her smile widening. ‘But I wouldn’t worry. Extreme exhaustion can make that happen. I hope you’re feeling better now. Your hand?’

  ‘It’s fine. I’m fine,’ he told her, and he had to acknowledge that he was definitely feeling better. Something about the way she was smiling at him...

  He had a woman in his bed. In her bed.

  Hannah.

  Smiling.

  For a moment he was totally, absolutely distracted. What he was feeling...

  What he was feeling had to be shoved away. He turned away, almost abruptly, and snagged his jeans from the floor, focusing on pulling them on. A man needed to be dressed. A man needed separation.

  But her words replayed in his head and he knew separation had to be postponed.

  ‘You can stay here,’ he said gruffly, hauling on his T-shirt. ‘Here, Hannah, in this house. I have no idea what damage the storm’s done to Moira’s house...’

  ‘It’s a solid house,’ she told him. ‘Even if there is a bit of damage I can cope, though I might need to borrow some of your supplies. That’s why I’m asking your permission.’

  ‘And you might need my help if you go into labour?’ He kept his back to her. For some reason it seemed important to keep this impersonal.

  ‘I might,’ she admitted. ‘I guess...okay, I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t know you’d be here. But I weighed it up and decided that with your support the plan would work. It is asking a bit of you, Josh, so if you say no...’

  ‘I do say no, at least to part of it,’ he said heavily, and then he turned back to her. Damn, she was so lovely. Tousled from sleep, in that silly frilly nightgown, her bedclothes pulled up like she still needed defence...

  She made his heart twist as it had no right to twist. As he had no intention that it could ever twist.

  ‘If you must stay then you stay here, in this house,’ he told her. ‘In this stage of pregnancy I’d be needing to traipse across every half-hour to check you haven’t collapsed with an antepartum haemorrhage.’

  ‘As if that’s likely. You wouldn’t have to.’

  ‘I’m responsible, even if you’re not,’ he snapped, and then regrouped. He was standing now, looking down at her, thinking how young she looked. How vulnerable. How alone.

  Do not get sucked in. Do not care.

  Too late. He already did.

  ‘You’ll stay in this house,’ he growled. ‘Or you’ll leave the island. That’s an order.’

  ‘Surgeon ordering nurse.’

  ‘No,’ he said, and relented. ‘Friend caring for friend. But the choice is still the same. You know I have the room. I can help you with the heavy things, emotional and otherwise. We’ll do this together, Hannah, or not at all.’

  She gazed up at him and he saw her blink. And then blink again, fast. A single tear trickled down her cheek and she swiped it away with what seemed anger.

  ‘Stupid,’ she muttered.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘My emotions. Forget it, I’m over it. Josh, do you mean it?’

  ‘I mean it.’

  ‘Then thank you,’ she said gratefully. ‘I accept with pleasure.’

  After that, events of the day took over. There was little time for introspection, no time to doubt the wisdom of what he’d just promised.

  Josh found the Vegemite—seemingly the most urgent of priorities. He checked on Mick, who was still dazed, shocked and hurting.

  Skye was in pain, too, with bruising pretty much all over her. She and Mick had protected the kids superbly but at huge cost to their own bodies.

  ‘And I’m about two minutes pregnant,’ Skye admitted, and Josh winced. If they’d known that he never would have let her sit up the night before.

  ‘So is everything feeling normal?’

  ‘Actually...cramps...’

  ‘How pregnant are you?’

  ‘I haven’t had a check yet, but I think...about eight weeks?’

  Damn, why hadn’t she said so last night? Josh had checked bruises and lacerations, asked if there was anything else.

  Why hadn’t he asked about pregnancy?

  ‘Because you’re a surgeon?’ Hannah said when he told her. ‘Don’t beat yourself up. I imagine there’ll be forms with boxes to tick if any fertile lady comes within your treating orbit. Where are forms when you need them?’ She checked and reassured both Josh and Skye herself. ‘There’s no sign of an ectopic and you didn’t get hit in the stomach. The cramps are easing but we’ll take no chances.’

  Skye was tucked back in bed, with Hannah reassuring her that with shock and lack of water, tummy cramps would probably have nothing to do with the pregnancy. Regardless, Josh put in a call to increase their need for priority assistance. Without Skye acting as Mum, Hannah and Josh were caught between medical need and the needs of three traumatised kids.

  Hannah came into her own here, too. These were good kids, but they were stressed, and Josh watched with admiration as Hannah managed to settle them. She got them baking—‘Because I’m Irish and I can’t stand toast and Vegemite.’ She made a huge batch of cookie dough, and by the time the medevac chopper landed they were loaded with a tub of Very Weird Cookies.

  ‘For your grandma,’ Hannah told them before they trooped across to the chopper. Toby, the eldest at ten, seemed the most traumatised, and with his parents both on stretchers, he gripped Hannah’s hand and clung.

  ‘You know your Grandma’s going to be at the hospital when the helicopter lands,’ Hannah told him, crouching awkwardly to give him a goodbye hug. ‘Your mum’s on a stretcher because she got more bumps than you, and she’s sore. Your dad has a broken leg and a few cuts, but both your mum and dad are going to be fine. The doctors and nurses will look after them, and Grandma will look after you.’

  ‘You should come with us,’ Toby whispered, unwilling to let go the only security he seemed to have.

  One of the medics came across to collect Toby and heard. She smiled down at Hannah, her professional eyes perusing Hannah’s obvious baby bump. ‘You can come too if you want. You certainly meet our criteria.’

  ‘Thanks, but no,’ she told her. ‘Josh will look after me, just as Grandma will look after you, Toby, and so will your mum and dad, just as soon as the doctors have patched them up. You’ve had a huge adventure. When you get to Grandma’s, will you draw me a picture of you all at her kitchen table and send it to us? I’ll
stick it on Dr Josh’s fridge. It’s a very bare fridge. It needs a picture.’

  ‘Okay,’ Toby said, squaring his shoulders a little now he was faced with a task he could handle. ‘I’ll get the others to draw, too. And maybe Mum when she’s better. She paints awesome pictures.’ His chin wobbled. ‘All her pictures... They’ll have blown away.’

  ‘That’s one of the reasons Dr Josh and I need to stay,’ Hannah told him. ‘As soon as you’re gone we’ll drive over to your house and see how many of Mum’s pictures we can collect. There’ll be lots of other stuff to find, too.’

  ‘I’d like to help.’

  But your job is to look after your mum and dad and the littlies,’ she told him. ‘They need you.’

  Toby’s shoulders squared still more. He sniffed—just once—and then pulled himself together and allowed himself to be lifted up into the chopper.

  ‘Brave kid,’ Josh said as they watched it lift in a blast of down-draughted sand. ‘And well done, you.’ His arm came around her again in an almost unconscious gesture of protection.

  She stilled and then consciously removed his arm.

  ‘Well done, us,’ she told him. ‘Next...’

  Next Josh insisted that she rest while he headed back over to the ruined cottage to see what he could salvage. She sort of rested, but not much. Her brain seemed to be wired, as if expecting something else bad to happen.

  She wanted to go...home? But where was home?

  It felt like nowhere.

  The initial chopper was for emergency evacuation but the chopper for Moira’s retrieval was different. In the expanse of outback Australia, hearses were useless, and this island was now so remote the same need applied. The unmarked chopper arrived later that afternoon, an official with it.

  The official was officious, and apart from a brief question or two to Josh, he wanted to talk to Hannah alone. Josh left them be and returned to desultory clearing up. Sand was everywhere.

  When Moira’s shrouded body was stretchered to the chopper, he headed back over.

  Hannah was standing on the veranda, watching them go.