by Anne Fraser
Abby took a deep breath. ‘I lied that first day at work. We have met before. Almost twelve years ago. On Mykonos.’
Mac’s frown deepened and he looked at her intently. ‘Mykonos? I was there as a windsurfing instructor, but I don’t. Wait a minute. I do remember you. Your hair was shorter and you wore glasses. But of course. You were there with your sister, Sara.’ He leaned back in his chair and whistled. ‘You’ve changed.’
To her fury, Abby blushed under his frank admiration. Of course he hadn’t remembered her. Nobody had ever given her a second glance. Not when Sara had been around. Sara had been confident, keen to meet new people and to try out new experiences. She had thrown herself into life almost as if she’d known she wasn’t long for the world. Abby had always taken on the big sister role, even though she’d only been the elder by a couple of minutes, and had never minded always being in Sara’s shadow. All she’d ever wanted had been for Sara to be happy.
Abby opened her handbag and pulled out the photograph she’d put in it. She handed it to Mac. ‘That’s my twin, Sara. Non-identical, obviously. You have your arm around her shoulder. The one at the end is me.’
‘I remember now. Hell, I haven’t thought about that summer in years. Imagine you carrying that photo around all this time’ He looked at her, his dark brows drawing together. ‘Why? ‘ He half smiled. ‘Don’t tell me you had a crush on me and I didn’t know. If so, I’m sorry. One thing’s for sure, no one could fail to notice you now.’
Once again he sent her a look that gave her goose-bumps and infuriated her at the same time. Did the women he knew really fall for that kind of patter?
‘How is Sara?’ he continued, grinning. ‘If I remember correctly, your sister knew how to have fun! Has she settled down? Sorry. That was a stupid question. Of course she has. She must be what, thirty—thirty-one?’
‘Sara’s dead,’ Abby said bluntly.
There was no mistaking the shock on Mac’s face. ‘Dead! I am so sorry. When? What happened?’
‘She died just over eleven years ago. About nine months after the holiday where you met.’ It still sent a stab of pain through Abby whenever she had to say the words. Would she ever get used to it?
‘I can’t believe it! She was so full of life.’ He pushed his half-eaten food away. ‘I liked her very much. She was a lovely person.’ Clearly he hadn’t fully grasped the implication in her words.
‘So fond of her you never tried getting in touch after she left? ‘ Abby couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. Mac had taken advantage of her sister. He had used her. Although they had both been young, he must have known that there had been a chance Sara could fall pregnant. Or had he simply not given a damn?
‘Hey, I did try to get in touch, once or twice,’ Mac said. ‘But the phone number she left with me was never answered.’ He leaned across the table, his eyes unfathomable. ‘We were both young. We both accepted it was a holiday romance. Nothing more.’ He placed his hand on top of Abby’s. She snatched it away. Whether it was because she was still angry with him or whether it was because his touch sent little sparks of electricity shooting up her arm, she didn’t want to think about.
‘How did she die?’ he asked softly. ‘Was it an accident?’
This was the hard part. This was where she had to tell him about Emma. But suddenly she couldn’t. Not yet.
‘Could we talk about something else?’ she asked softly. ‘Even though it’s been years, it still hurts too much.’
Mac was immediately contrite. ‘Sure.’ He leaned back in his chair and studied her intently. ‘Tell me about you. How come you ended up here? Penhally is quite a change to London.’
How could she explain the change without mentioning Emma?
‘I’d rather talk about you,’ she said evasively. ‘When we met back on Mykonos you were a windsurfing instructor. It was a bit of a shock to find you are a rescue medic.’
Mac grinned. ‘Yeah, well. Back then I’d just graduated and I wanted one summer off before I started my first house job. I was fortunate. I managed to get an instructing job every summer while I was a medical student. It helped pay the bills.’ For a moment his eyes darkened and he lost his ready smile. Then just as quickly the grin was back in place. ‘If I couldn’t be a doctor, I probably would have been a professional windsurfer. Luckily I got into medical school. Better pay and much more satisfying.’
He paused as a couple took a table close by. ‘Tiree has an international reputation for some of the best surf in the world. I couldn’t grow up there and not do a watersport of some description.’
‘Don’t tell me that’s what brought you to Penhally Bay.’ She didn’t even attempt to hide her incredulity. What kind of doctor took a job because of the surfing conditions?
He looked amused. ‘Partly. Glasgow is a great city, but I couldn’t live in a place I can’t kite board regularly. But I also came here because there was an opening for a medic in the air ambulance service. The job here is exactly what I always wanted.’
‘You love it, don’t you? The excitement and the danger. I saw the rescue you did with the family on the boat on television. You risked your life to save those people. Just as you did with Luke.’
Mac grinned again. ‘It’s part of the job. But you’re right. I feel more alive when I battle the elements—beat the odds. But what about you? Do you think you’ll cope? It must be different from what you’ve been used to.’
How deftly he had turned the conversation away from himself again.
‘Some of it does frighten me. Especially the thought of being lowered by a winch in blustery conditions. I think it has something to do with being a mum. You know that you have a child waiting for you at home. Someone who needs you to be around for a long time, and it makes you think twice about taking risks.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that.’ Although he smiled, a shadow crossed his eyes. ‘One of the benefits about being single is that I don’t have anyone who needs me. Luckily.’ Abby suspected she was being warned. Don’t expect too much. I’m not in it for the long term.
So far nothing Mac had said was what she wanted to hear.
Sensing that Mac was about to ask about Emma, Abby added quickly, ‘What about your parents? Brothers? Sisters?’ It wasn’t just that she wanted to keep the conversation away from Emma for the time being at least, she was intensely curious. She told herself it was purely because Mac’s family would be Emma’s family, too.
It was as if the shutters had come down. Mac’s blue eyes grew cold and distant.
‘I’m an only child. I have no idea who or where my father is,’ he said shortly. ‘My mother still lives in Tiree. I see her when I can.’
Abby felt a tug of sympathy—and recognition. Whenever she was asked about her parents, she gave pretty much the same reply. Her father had disappeared after she and Sara had been born. He had never come back to see his daughters and the only contact they’d ever had with him had been the odd birthday card. He had died years ago, and their mother had only thought to tell Sara and Abby long after the funeral had taken place.
‘But let’s not talk about the past.’ Mac leaned forward. ‘It’s the here and now that matters. I want to know more about you.’
‘And the future?’ Abby persisted. ‘Doesn’t that matter?’
Mac grinned and narrowed his eyes speculatively. ‘The only thing about the future that interests me right now is when you’re going to come out with me again.’
Abby returned his look coolly. Her brown eyes were reproving, almost accusing. Mac could have kicked himself. He should have known the usual direct approach wouldn’t work with this woman. Instinctively he knew that Abby was someone who would expect to be courted slowly and seriously. But he didn’t feel like taking things slowly with Abby. If he could have taken her home with him tonight and made love to her, he would have without a moment’s hesitation.
And he didn’t do serious. Abby was a woman with a child. A mother, and a protective one at that. Everyt
hing he had learned about her so far told him that she wasn’t the kind of woman to have casual affairs. Why, then, was he ignoring the alarms bells that were jangling in his head?
The faint scent of her perfume drifted across at him and before he could stop himself he leaned across the table and took a lock of her thick caramel hair between his fingers. It was heavy and silky. He swallowed a groan as an image of Abby naked beside him, her hair touching his skin as she leaned over to kiss him, flashed into his head. He knew without a shadow of doubt he would never be satisfied until he had this woman in his bed.
A range of emotions he couldn’t quite place crossed Abby’s face. He would bet his life, though, that she felt the attraction, too.
‘But the future does matter, Mac. So does the past.’ She fiddled with her napkin. ‘Emma.’ she started. ‘Sara.’ She took a deep breath. Some of the colour had left her face.
‘Sara died following childbirth. She developed an infection a few days after she delivered Emma. The doctors did everything they could but it was no use.’ Her enormous brown eyes swam with unshed tears.
‘After Emma was delivered?’ Mac echoed. ‘I thought Emma was your child.’
‘She is. But I’m not her birth mother. Sara was. After she died, Emma came to live with me.’
Mac was puzzled. Why was she telling him this? It did explain, however, why there was no father in the picture. Despite everything he’d just told himself, he couldn’t help feeling glad.
‘Sara delivered Emma nine months after she returned from Mykonos.’ Abby caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
Did she have any idea how cute she looked when she did that?
‘Mac, Emma is your daughter.’
Emma? His daughter? At least he thought that was what Abby said. He must have misheard.
‘Did I hear you correctly?’ he said. He hoped to hell he hadn’t.
‘Yes. I didn’t know at first. Sara wouldn’t tell me who the father was, although, given the timing, I had my suspicions.’
‘So she might not be mine?’ He heard the relief in his voice.
‘She didn’t tell me it was you until she knew for certain she was going to die. Then she confirmed what I had suspected all along. You were the father.’
Mac felt as if he was in a nightmare. He couldn’t have a daughter. It was impossible. God knew, he didn’t want one. He would make a terrible father anyway. His mind was racing. Admittedly, Sara and he had spent almost the whole fortnight together and, yes, they’d had sex. Neither of them had ever pretended that what they’d shared had been anything more than a holiday romance. And he remembered he had asked about contraception. He hadn’t been such an idiot as to have unprotected sex. Although Sara had insisted she was on the Pill, they had used condoms, too. In his twenty-one years he had hardly been a saint and he hadn’t taken chances with anyone’s sexual health. So how could she have fallen pregnant? But then it came back to him. There had been one evening after a beach party when they’d both had too much to drink and they hadn’t used condoms. It had never crossed his mind that Sara could have become pregnant. He forced himself to focus on what Abby was saying.
‘When Emma was three months old, I went back to Mykonos to try and find you, but it was no use. You were gone. All I knew was that you were called Mac. I asked around, but nobody could tell me anything that would help me trace you.’
‘That summer was my last of teaching windsurfing. After that I was too busy doing my house jobs. I didn’t need the money or, more to the point, have the time.’ He still felt dazed. ‘You can’t be sure she’s mine, whatever Sara told you.’
‘Think about it, Mac. Sara had no reason to lie. If she had wanted to, she could have told you she was pregnant, but she didn’t. It was only when she knew she was going to die that she told me. And that was only because she knew that one day Emma would want to know something about her father. Possibly find him.’ She paused. ‘But if you still have your doubts I’m sure we can arrange a DNA test.’ Although that wasn’t what she wanted. Emma would be hurt to find out that the father she so desperately wanted had needed proof that she was his daughter.
‘I think that might be a good idea.’ Mac stumbled to his feet. He had to get out of there. He needed time to think. He saw his life changing in front of his eyes. A father!
‘Mac, I know this has been a shock to you. It was to me when I realised I would be working with you. At least, in my case, I’ve known about you for years.’
‘Does Emma know? That I’m her father, I mean?’
‘She knows that her father is out there somewhere. She doesn’t know it’s you. Not yet. I thought it was only fair to talk to you first.’
‘Will you tell her?’
‘Yes. She desperately wants to find her father.’ Abby reached out and touched him on the hand. ‘Mac, please sit down. I can’t think with you standing over me like that.’
Reluctantly Mac did as she asked. He owed it to Abby to hear her out, however much he didn’t want to believe what she was telling him.
‘The reason I took the job here was because Emma was being bullied at her school in London. You know how cruel kids can be. When they found out that Em didn’t know who her father was they started teasing her. They wouldn’t even come to her eleventh birthday party. Things just got worse from there.’
Ouch. Mac remembered only too well how that felt. Growing up in a small community, as he had done, it had been exactly the same for him, but at least he’d had his windsurfing. Out on the waves he’d been able to forget everything. Besides, his skill on the board had made him a bit of a hero in the other children’s eyes. But their teasing had still hurt. He felt a rush of sympathy towards Emma. And anger. How dared those children pick on a little girl about something that was out of her control? If he had them in front of them right now, he’d be tempted to bang their heads together.
‘If it turns out I am Emma’s father, I won’t deny her,’ he said. ‘I’ll do what’s right. Provide financial support, whatever you need.’
Abby’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘Financial support isn’t what is needed, Mac. Emma and I manage fine. What Emma needs is far more complicated than that. As soon as she knows about you she is going to want a relationship. Can you give her that? ‘
Right now, Mac had no idea.
Mac got to his feet again. ‘I’m sorry, Abby, I just don’t know if I can do what you’re asking. I never wanted to be a father. I don’t have the first clue about being one. There’s a good chance I’ll be rubbish at it. Emma is probably better off without me.’ He jammed his hands into his pockets. ‘I need time to think about this. Decide what to do.’
‘Don’t think too long, Mac. I have to tell Emma that I’ve found you.’ She got to her feet, too. ‘You said you’d take her windsurfing next Saturday. Whether you show up or not is up to you.’
He could see the determination in her calm nut-brown eyes.
‘But let me warn you. If you do decide to get involved with her, it’s not something you can back out of later. You’re in it for keeps. Make no mistake, Mac, if you hurt my child, you’ll have me to reckon with.’
CHAPTER SIX
MAC let himself into his flat and flung his car keys on the table. He had dropped Abby back home and they had sat in silence the whole of the journey. He was still reeling from what Abby had told him. There he’d been thinking he had been doing nothing more than taking a beautiful woman out to dinner. Now it seemed as if he was father to that woman’s daughter!
He thought back to when he had seen Emma on the beach. She was tall—like him. And she had blue eyes—like him. But was that enough to go on?
He crossed over to his full-length windows and stared out to sea. How could his life have changed so dramatically in just a matter of hours? The last thing he wanted, or needed, was an eleven-year-old daughter. Why hadn’t Sara told him she was pregnant? He felt a grudging respect for the woman who had given birth to his child. She had known how much his medical career h
ad meant to him. She had also probably known, he admitted ruefully, that back then he had not been up to being a father. But was he up to it now?
The wind had risen, whipping the sea against the rocks. He wished he was out there, challenging himself against the elements. It was so much easier than dealing with the bomb Abby had thrown at him.
He poured himself a whisky and swirled the amber liquid around the glass. Memories of his own childhood came rushing back. The endless stream of men his mother had brought home, insisting that he call them Dad. He had refused. And just as well; none of them, except Dougie, had lasted more than a couple of months. Mac had got on with him. It had been Dougie who had given him his first second-hand board and Mac would have considered calling him Dad, but eventually Dougie had left, too, driven away by his mother’s excessive demands. She had blamed Mac. Told him that he had ruined her chances of finding happiness. No wonder he had learned to windsurf. The time on the waves had been his only relief from his bitter, resentful mother. That, and school. As soon as he’d been able to, he had left home, supporting himself through medical school by taking out loans and teaching windsurfing. It had been hard. There had been too many times when he’d had to choose between buying a textbook and eating. But he’d survived, learning to depend on only himself. No wonder he’d never let anyone get close to him and so far it had worked out exactly the way he wanted. He was living the perfect life. A job he loved, this flat, mountain biking, free climbing and kite boarding whenever he could, and dating the kind of women who seemed happy to fit in around his other pleasures.
Until now.
He took a swig of his whisky, letting the liquid roll around his tongue. His life was going to be turned upside down. But what if Sara had been wrong? What if Emma wasn’t his child? He had to know for certain one way or another. If she was his, he wouldn’t abandon her. He couldn’t do the same thing to a child, his child, as his father had done to him. At least Emma had Abby. An image of hazel eyes and a warm smile floated in front of his eyes. She was the opposite of the women he normally went after. She was serious, warm, caring and fiercely protective. He knew instinctively she would be like a tigress when it came to protecting her daughter. Abby, he was sure, would never have told him he was Emma’s father if she hadn’t been certain of it herself. She had taken a risk telling him and she knew it. Sighing, he placed his empty glass on the table and reached for the phone. He had to see Abby and arrange the DNA test after she had a chance to tell Emma. The sooner he knew for sure that Emma was his, the better for all concerned. But deep down he was getting used to the idea. Already he felt something strange, a sense of protectiveness towards the young girl who Abby claimed was his child.
