The Midwife's New-Found...

by Fiona McArthur

  'Meaning divine intervention itself is not going to stop you from being alone in my company.'

  Misty glanced around at the little boats dotted over the lake. 'I don't think being alone will be a problem, Ben,' she said dryly.

  He deliberately misunderstood her. 'Good.'

  She raised her eyebrows at his cheeky comment. 'Just don't try to save any birds and hit your head.'

  'Ouch.' So she had a mean streak as well. He liked that. Ben started to whistle an Irish courting tune that had come from nowhere into his head and he looked down at the copper-headed woman beside him and smiled at the world.

  A voice hailed them from the boatshed and old Clem, who Ben had met last night when he'd arranged this, came out, wiping varnish from his hands on a rag.

  Clem looked at Misty. 'Howdy, Miss Buchanan.'

  'Hello, Clem. How's the granddaughter?'

  The old man's face creased into a road map of pride. 'Pretty as a picture and just as sweet.'

  Misty nodded. 'I saw them at home yesterday and Ellie's a great little mother.'

  'Take's after my sainted wife,' Clem said, and Misty looked at Ben.

  'Clem's daughter, Ellie, had her first baby last week. I visit her on the early discharge programme we have.'

  Clem nodded. 'It was a real boost to this place when Miss Buchanan's brother came here, then his wife and now his sister. Now look what we got. My girl didn't have to go to a place where she didn't know anyone to have the babe.'

  He shook his grizzled head and Ben began to see that what he had considered a quaint service could, in fact, be something to be very proud of.

  He reminded himself to talk to Andy when he had a chance to find out how it had all begun.

  'Anyway, come for the boats, have you, Doc?' Clem pointed with the rag at two canoes tied up at the end of the jetty. 'Just leave 'em there when you're finished and I'll put 'em away,' he said. 'Enjoy.'

  'Thank you,' Ben said, and he reached forward and shook the old man's gnarled hand. The smell of turpentine would follow them for the evening but he could live with that. He was sure Misty could too.

  Five minutes later they drew away from the jetty and, of course, the superior edge from his prestigious boarding-school training proved no match for Misty's obvious aquatic skills. 'So you can swim, surf, and canoe with consummate ease?'

  'Another blow for male domination,' she teased him back, and he had to laugh at his own wounded pride as she paddled away from him.

  He dug his paddle in and chased. There was no doubt she was a strong purgative for his arrogant soul.

  'Andy and I grew up on the water at Bundeena,' she called over her shoulder.

  He finally caught up and they both stopped paddling and just drifted over the clear water.

  She turned to face him and the little spots of colour and the excitement in her eyes made her look even more beautiful to him. 'Bundeena is an inlet on the south side of Port Hacking and is surrounded by national park. Lots of outdoor stuff happens there.'

  'It sounds beautiful.'

  Misty laughed. 'I had great friends but used to think it was a hole. No nightclubs, or pubs—just a club for the oldies and good, clean fun for the kids.'

  Her face saddened. 'When Mum died we had to move out west of Sydney and Andy commuted to med school. Eventually I finished school and did my nursing degree. That's where I met Montana and Mia.'

  She glanced around at the lake and the other craft in the distance. 'I think that's why Andy likes it here. Because of the water.'

  I like it here because of you, Ben thought, but he didn't say it. He wasn't sure that he wanted to put that much pressure on himself. He had the feeling she wasn't ready to hear it either.

  'What happened to your dad?' he said instead.

  'He died when I was about five. I don't remember much about him except he used to laugh a lot.' She looked at him. 'But enough about me. Tell me something about your life, Ben Moore. What makes you tick?'

  Ben wasn't sure that he did tick. He'd been dead for years until this little spitfire had come along. She tilted her face at him and dared him with her eyes to open up to her but he couldn't do it. Wouldn't do it!

  Typically, he changed the subject. 'I thrive on competition.' The willow trees along the bank looked far enough away for her to forget the topic. 'Race you to the shore.'

  'If I win, you tell me something,' Miss I-will-not-be-diverted said, and he nodded. But he'd win.

  Of course he didn't. He led for most of the way but at the end her lighter kayak wiggled its stern at him as she paddled past ten metres from the shore.

  She dug her paddle into the water to skid to a stop in the shallows, facing him, and Ben threw up his hands in disgust.

  He had to laugh. 'That will not happen again. I'll be out here every afternoon, practicing, because it's very bad for my morale to lose to a mere woman.'

  'Poor Ben,' she teased, and stepped lightly—not as easy as it looked he found out himself—out of her boat and onto the bank. 'Drag your boat up here and I'll pat your back.'

  There were some things a man couldn't bear and perky little smart Alecs with attitude needed to be taught a lesson.

  He followed her up the bank and under the trees and suddenly they were in a different place. The hillside angled away from them rock strewn and scrubby, but under the trees the lake lapped the shore and it was cool and dimly lit and delightfully secluded.

  Misty stopped as if she'd just realised their isolation, and Ben planted his feet and smiled. 'Now, this is nice,' he said.

  Misty brushed her hair from her face with her finger and faced him. He saw her notice the backpack and she changed the subject with barely hidden relief. 'I meant to ask earlier. What did you bring in your bag?'

  So she didn't want to be kissed. Sensible girl. He'd called her that before, he remembered. He damped down the urges that clamoured for attention and lifted the bag from his shoulder.

  'Aha. Curiosity.' He bent down and unzipped it and looked inside. 'Actually, it's pretty boring. I'd like one of those Mary Poppins travel bags that everything comes out of. You know chairs, table, lampshade…'

  She blinked in surprise at his off-the-cuff comment and he supposed it must be a bit strange for a bloke to wish for the world's most famous nanny's accessories.

  He guessed it was a little embarrassing. 'Tammy loved the DVD. I've watched it a hundred times with her. I used to do the Dick Van Dyke impersonations, and she'd laugh.' He looked away. Actually, they had been some of the many good times he could remember. Poor Tammy.

  Misty didn't doubt he cursed himself for giving away even that much so she didn't comment on his obvious regrets. But it was nice to get at least a tiny glimpse of what he'd been like as a father. 'Maybe you could try and remember some skits for when she's in labour.'

  They smiled at each other. Humour in the birth unit was rarely appreciated by the woman in labour, and they both knew it.

  'Hmm. That would go down well,' Ben said. 'She's sixteen. Apparently I'm not going anywhere near her until after the baby is born.'

  'She told you that?'

  'Yeah. But that's fine. I'll be a mess anyway and probably wouldn't be any help to her.'

  'Poor midwife, having you in the background.'

  'Poor you.'

  'Yeah. Poor me.' They smiled at each other again and the mood shifted.

  Without taking his eyes off her, Ben reached into the bag and pulled out a folded rug. He knelt down and unfolded it over the scratchy grass.

  'Would you like to sit down?' he said, and Misty felt the flutter in her stomach respond to the invitation in his voice and eyes.

  Automatically she straightened her own side of the mat until it lay between them like a tartan square of no-man's-land that she wasn't sure she was game to edge onto.

  Ben just smiled at her hesitation and stretched himself out one side. He pulled the bag across and produced a drink. 'If you sit next to me I'll give you a mango juice. I know you like it.'
/>   Misty had to smile. So he'd remembered that from the beach, had he? 'I didn't drink it last time.'

  'And very sensible you were, but it's hotter today and you must be parched from beating me in a kayak.'

  'You shouldn't be the one to sound smug.'

  'Smug?' She watched him mull over the word and then nod his head. 'Yep.' He nodded again with conviction. 'As the only person here with cold juice to offer, I am smug.'

  'As the outright winner, I, too, am smug. Therefore I will accept one, thank you.'

  She eased onto the mat next to him and took the bottle. The brush of his fingers made her pulse rate increase and she looked away. This was not a good idea.

  When she opened the lid of the bottle, the cracking sound of the broken seal seemed to echo around her.

  Why did her senses seem to become so much more receptive when she was near Ben?

  They both gazed out onto the lake through the fronds of the overhanging trees and the sun glinted off the water, the juice was icy cold and fruity, and the company was…She took a sip and when she turned back to face him he was watching her mouth.

  'You've got your own. Don't look at mine.'

  He looked down at the juice in his hand as if he'd forgotten it was there. He cracked the lid and looked down at it. 'Noisy little blighters,' he said. 'Yours looks better,' he said with a slight smile, and then he seemed to finally relax.

  She wondered if he could feel those tiny eddies of breeze that seemed to be tickling her skin or maybe his skin wasn't a mass of raw nerve endings like hers had suddenly become.

  The silence stretched. 'I was surprised to see you live at the residence. I thought you and Tammy might move into the big guesthouse.'

  Ben looked across the water at the tall white building to the left. 'I was going to but Andy suggested Louisa and Ned might be better company for Tammy when I was called out at night.'

  He looked back at her and smiled. 'He did mention his sister was a midwife and stayed there, too.'

  So Ben had known Misty would be under the same roof before he'd arrived. It would have been nice to have had that advantage. Never mind. She'd managed very well considering the lack of warning.

  A rustle from the bushes behind them made them both turn and from the thicker foliage came the identical sound of the mango-juice lid opening. Then the noise came again twice more in quick succession.

  Ben blinked and Misty smiled in sudden comprehension. Montana had told her about this.

  'Lyrebird,' Misty breathed almost inaudibly.

  A small brown bird poked his head out of the bush and stared beadily at them.

  When they didn't move he stepped out fastidiously as if to avoid soiling his feet and lifted the heavy tail that he dragged behind him. Fan shaped and grey-brown, his tail shimmied at them in a ruffle of feathers as he turned full circle, balancing the extra weight with some effort. The bird gave two more renditions of the juice-opening noise and then dropped his tail and disappeared back into the bush as if he'd done his job and was now off duty.

  Ben let go of the breath he hadn't realised he'd held. He felt suddenly lighter than he had for a long time, no doubt from the euphoria of hypoxia when he had failed to breathe, but nonetheless it was a good feeling.

  He turned to look at Misty and she smiled back at him, his own pleasure reflected in her green eyes.

  'That was pretty special,' Ben said. He leaned across and took Misty's hand in his and pulled her across to him until he could put his arm around her.

  'Mmm-hmm,' Misty said as she leaned against him and closed her eyes to replay the sight in her mind.

  He stared at her now familiar features as she breathed gently beside him, eyes shut, relaxed and enjoying the serenity around them.

  Peace seemed to steal into his bones, dissolving some of the pain and guilt he'd held buried for so long.

  Misty felt warm and wonderful under his arm but there was no rush to alter the mood because he could just turn his face and look out over Lyrebird Lake and thank his lucky stars he'd come there.

  For the moment, and for today, that was enough.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE next evening when Tammy joined them on the veranda Misty moved over to encourage the young woman to sit next to her.

  'We get the swing, Tammy. Men not allowed. Are you a swinger or a sitter?'

  Tammy plonked down next to Misty and stared at the ground. 'Swinging makes me sick when I'm pregnant.'

  'I'm not a fan of the vigorous rock.' She glanced at Ben. 'If you sit here with a man he has to make it swing. It's in their make-up.'

  'Dad, I mean, Ben,' she corrected herself, 'used to take me to the park when I was a kid, but that stopped when he left Mum.'

  'You liked the swings then. I had fun at the park with you,' Ben said quietly. 'It was peaceful and those times are some of my most treasured memories.'

  Tammy smiled and said dryly in a voice beyond her years, 'Nobody was yelling at the park. Mum loved a good yell.'

  Ben shrugged apologetically. 'Your mum and I weren't terrific together. I thought I was making her even more unhappy.'

  'She really wasn't terrific with anyone, but she got worse when you left.' Tammy glanced at Misty. 'He left my mum the day after I turned twelve. Mum died three months later.'

  The flatness of her tone spoke volumes. 'You shouldn't have left me with her.'

  Misty didn't know where to look or how to help. These people had huge issues beyond her simple solutions. She wondered if she should get up and leave but Ben must have sensed her intention.

  He lifted his hand in her direction. 'Stay, Misty. Please. If you weren't here we probably wouldn't be talking about something we should have talked about years ago.'

  Ben edged forward in his seat to catch his daughter's eye. 'You know why I left you both, Tammy.'

  Tammy refused to look at him. 'Because you wanted to do your own thing and I wasn't important enough to stay.'

  Ben shook his head. 'Because I could see what the fighting was doing to you. To all of us.'

  Now she looked at him but it was more of a glare. 'She put me in a boarding school. How was that better?'

  Ben sighed. 'Your mother told me she denied me shared custody because I worked such long hours, and I did then, but we had some good times on your leave weekends.'

  'We did until Mum died.'

  'It was your choice to stop. I'm sorry, Tammy. I know it's been hard for you but we've got a chance to spend some time together here. Now.' He stared at his daughter's face. 'Let's do that.'

  'OK,' Tammy said, but even Misty could hear the lack of belief in the word and she hoped Ben meant what he said because Tammy certainly needed the attention.

  * * *

  The next night Ben and Tammy went out for dinner. His daughter might have been in a better mood if she hadn't been asked after Misty had. Misty had declined Ben's invitation and unfortunately Tammy had overheard, and the evening wasn't the complete success Ben had hoped for.

  He just didn't get it and Misty resolved to hand out a few hints when she had him to herself.

  * * *

  The next morning Tammy waylaid Misty in the hallway to hand out a few hints of her own.

  'Can I talk to you for a minute?' She avoided Misty's eyes as she indicated with her hand the doorway into her room.

  Misty allowed herself to be ushered into Tammy's bedroom and glanced around for somewhere to perch.

  There really wasn't a surface, including the carpet, unlittered with clothes, which made it difficult to decide where to sit. How could such a mess have happened in so few days?

  Tammy solved the problem by sweeping the only bundle of clean clothes from the desk chair onto the floor.

  Misty blinked and couldn't help herself. 'I'll bet you didn't fold those,' she said dryly, and Tammy looked up in confusion.

  Tammy looked down at the pile tipped on its side, and shrugged. 'Why would I?'

  'Because Louisa isn't your slave, is four times your age and de
serves a little respect for the help she's offering.'

  She looked at Tammy and smiled. 'But I'm not your mother or your father so go ahead. You wanted to say something to me?'

  Tammy glanced around at the mess in the room and frowned. 'You know, you're right.' She looked at Misty and sighed. 'I've been feeling sorry for myself, which only makes me worse.' She kicked the nearest article of clothing. 'I couldn't do this at boarding school but my grandmother didn't expect me to do anything in her house.'

  Tammy picked up the clothes she'd just knocked over and put them back on the desk. 'I'll fix it. I do like Louisa.'

  'Wow.' Misty was seriously surprised and impressed. She looked at the young girl in front of her and smiled. 'It's pretty brave to admit that. If you want to do it now, I'll help you and we'll have it done in no time. Then we can have breakfast together.'

  Tammy looked up as if assessing if Misty meant it. 'If you want.'

  They sorted the room quickly and Tammy even giggled at Misty's amazement when she saw Tammy's tiny underwear.

  'So you actually wear G-strings and find them comfortable?'

  'Yeah.' But her tone said, Of course! 'I've even got G-string napkins for after the baby's born. I read about them in a magazine.'

  'You learn something every day.' Misty shook her head and suddenly she saw just how lonely Tammy was. 'You said you wanted to talk about something?'

  Tammy looked away. 'I wondered if you thought my dad was OK. He seems to like you.'

  Misty could hear the subtle jealousy that Tammy tried to hide and she didn't blame her. She'd only just got her father back and here he was paying attention to someone else when she'd thought she'd have him all to herself.

  Misty trod carefully. 'What's not to like? Did your dad tell you how we met?'

  Tammy nodded. 'You saved him when he nearly drowned. I can't imagine my dad needing anyone like that, but I guess he would have died if you hadn't been there.'

  Misty pushed away the images that rose. 'I don't like thinking about that but, yes, there was a big chance he could have.'