A Father for Her Baby

by Sue MacKay

  ‘Resp rate fifty-two. Too low,’ she murmured, as she looked directly at him, the worry for Murts obvious in her eyes. ‘They’re in the pack that Mike will bring from the surgery. As there are no ambulance personnel qualified to use most drugs, they’re only carried when one of the doctors attends an incident.’

  ‘Good policy, though right now I could do without it.’

  ‘I think both femurs are broken,’ Sasha’s hands were carefully working down the length of Murts’s left leg. ‘We’re going to have to straighten them and apply splints before loading him in the helicopter.’

  ‘We’ll wait for that drug kit and some morphine.’ He began checking the right leg, working in sync with Sasha. Amazing how well they worked together. But it shouldn’t be a surprise. They’d always done things well together.

  A shot rang out, quickly followed by another.

  Grady saw Sasha shiver and reached over to run a finger over her hand. ‘Had to be done.’

  ‘I know, but doesn’t mean I have to like it.’

  The men gave a cheer. ‘That’ll show him,’ one of them muttered, as they headed outside.

  ‘What was that you said about sirloin on the way in?’ Grady asked Sasha with a smile, trying to lift her spirits.

  Her face paled. ‘No, thanks. Think I’ll stick to my chicken now.’

  ‘You squeamish about where your meat comes from?’ He held back a chuckle. Probably get slapped hard for that.

  ‘Not normally, but being pregnant has changed a lot of things. Like craving for prunes. Used to hate them as a kid and they were Mum’s favourite fix for everything that ailed us.’ Colour started returning to her face and she began counting Murts’s resp rate again.

  Murts gave a deeper groan than any before.

  ‘Murts? What’s going on?’ Grady gently palpated the abdomen area where the man’s fist was tapping. ‘Pain here?’

  ‘Ye-es. Ahh.’

  The sound lifted the hairs on the back of Grady’s neck. ‘The ambulance is nearly here, and the helicopter is on its way. You hang in there, right? We’ll get you sorted and into hospital where they can fix you up in no time.’ Don’t you dare die on us. Don’t you damn well dare.

  Sasha rubbed the back of one of Murts’s hands. ‘Who do you want to go to hospital with you? Sally or one of those lugs outside?’

  ‘Sally’s in Nelson, doing the shopping,’ Murts wheezed.

  ‘So one of those lugs it is. I’ll go see who’s available.’ Sasha stood, leaned closer to Grady. ‘Resp rate dropping. Now forty.’ Then she headed out to find the men.

  The sound of tyres on the gravel outside was very welcome, as was the bag of medical goodies Mike carried in moments later. ‘Hey, there, Murts, hear that bull of yours went a little crazy.’

  Sasha returned carrying leg splints and a stretcher from the ambulance, accompanied by Rebecca.

  Grady shook his head at Sasha. ‘What was wrong with getting Rebecca to carry that stretcher?’

  Her face squeezed into a scowl. ‘It weighs next to nothing.’ But she did quickly place it on the ground near their patient, before handing the splints to Grady. ‘I’ll head off on my round now. With Mike and Rebecca here, you won’t need me any more.’ There was a hint of mischief in her eyes as she nailed him with a stare.

  Sash thought she’d found a way to get rid of him for the rest of the day, did she? That sucked. Hurt, too, if he was honest. She really didn’t want him accompanying her for the day. Did she dislike him now? No. Her kiss negated that theory. So his presence was stirring up memories or emotions she’d prefer weren’t stirred up. Was that it? Hope flared, nudged the hurt aside. He could still rattle her cage. Cool. ‘Guess what?’

  When her carefully styled eyebrows lifted in a ‘this had better be good’ way he answered his own question. ‘I’m coming with you to see Campbell McRae. Or had you forgotten that?’

  The eyebrows dropped. But her mouth slid upwards into a reluctant smile. ‘I’d hoped you had.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  SASHA SAID GOODBYE to Mrs Callahan and headed outside to the car. Mrs Callahan hadn’t wanted Grady there while Sasha examined her hysterectomy wound.

  ‘Call me old-fashioned but my woman’s bits aren’t for everyone to see.’

  Sasha had smiled her understanding and refrained from pointing out that no ‘woman’s bits’ would be on show anyway. Sixty-year-old Mrs Callahan was entitled to her privacy, though that was likely to go out the window when she started radiation for her cervical cancer next week in Christchurch. Sasha carefully picked her way over the rough cobblestones on the pathway. Such a nice, kind lady, known for her good deeds in the community, and she’d been dealt a bad card. Cancer didn’t care who it attacked.

  Rounding the corner of the house, she stopped. Grady was leaning against her vehicle, talking on his phone, and looking so sexy in his thick jacket and his butt-hugging trousers.

  Her mouth dried. No wonder she’d kissed him last night in her half-awake—or was that half-asleep—state. Kissing Grady had always been a favourite pastime. And what those kisses had led to. Thank goodness he’d put the brakes on before they’d gone any further last night. Had he wanted her? In that way? Or had her kiss turned him completely off her? Or her baby bump? That had to be a dose of reality for any man. Kissing a woman who carried another guy’s baby had to be the biggest turn-off imaginable.

  But look at him. Not just sexy beyond belief. Solid, reliable, caring. Special. Grady. The man she’d once intended marrying, intended sharing her future with.

  Her head pounded. The blood beat along her veins. Exhaustion swamped her. Being tired beyond belief made dealing with Grady too much. Too complicated, involved, difficult. One half-assed kiss didn’t mean everything had been righted in her world. Far from it.

  Flipper nudged her more gently than usual. ‘Yeah, I know, baby girl. It’s just you and me.’ She continued down the path. This had been the last call. What with rampaging bulls and Campbell taking his time to size up Grady, and then not letting him go until he’d talked and talked and talked, they were very late. ‘Time to head home and put my feet up.’ Now she sounded like an old lady. Thank goodness Dad was home. She didn’t have any energy to spare for packing citrus today.

  ‘Murts has just had surgery to put rods in his femurs.’ Grady shoved his phone into his jacket pocket as she approached. ‘The head injuries are causing concern, as are his punctured lungs.’

  ‘But he’s alive.’ A sigh rushed over her lips. ‘That’s got to be good news.’ Poor Sally would be beside herself with worry.

  ‘You okay?’ Grady’s eyes clouded with concern.

  ‘Absolutely fantastic.’ I’ve seen a guy who’d been battered half to death by a bull, a lovely lady dealing with cancer, and I had the biggest scare of my life yesterday. ‘I’m just fine.’ But she walked up to the passenger side of her vehicle and opened the door, hauled herself inside and hunched back against the seat, her eyes closed.

  Grady, to his credit, didn’t say a word, just walked round to the other side, adjusted the driver’s seat and drove them back to town.

  She’d rest on the way and then she’d be up to shopping at the supermarket and deciding what to have for dinner. Flipper was probably getting sick of soup and toast, or yoghurt. Monday night’s meal at Grady’s had been delicious and made her think she should be trying harder to cook tasty meals. But making them just for herself was a bore. And required energy she didn’t have today.

  ‘What would you like for dinner?’ Grady’s skin-lifting, emotion-grazing voice penetrated her fogged mind.

  ‘Trying to decide between two-minute noodles and canned spaghetti,’ she muttered. She wasn’t lying. Suddenly having to stand at the stove at all seemed beyond her.

  ‘How about sweet and sour pork with stir-fried rice?’

  She blinked. ‘What planet are you on? There’s no Chinese takeaway around here.’

  ‘Did I say anything about takeaways?’ He flicked her a cocky g
rin.

  ‘You’re cooking again?’ Her hand rested on the point her baby was currently toeing.

  Grady’s gaze dropped to her hand then returned to the road ahead. ‘Didn’t you know you can get sweet and sour pork in a packet? Just add water and stir.’

  ‘I’ve been missing out on gourmet delights.’ She laughed, her tiredness taking a step back. Grady was making her feel good. ‘Any other flavours?’

  ‘Not tonight.’ As they neared the medical centre he said, ‘Are you up to driving home from here? I need to get some groceries, mainly pork and rice, and then I’ll come to your place to cook dinner.’

  ‘I can manage fifteen minutes behind the wheel. I’m going to drop into the parents’ on the way. They’ll want to feel Flipper do her goal-kicking practice to make them totally happy all’s well in there.’

  ‘Okay if I let myself in if you’re not home when I arrive?’ He pulled up outside the medical centre.

  ‘Go for it. The key’s under the lemon-tree container.’

  ‘Where I found it last night.’

  Of course he had. She shook her head at him. ‘Not the cleverest place to…’ she flicked her forefingers in the air ‘…hide it, I know, but it’s there for when I forget to take my key ring with me.’

  Last night. When he’d driven her back from Nelson. After he’d sat with her, held her hand figuratively while she’d freaked out big time. A girl could get used to that if she wasn’t careful. Last night—when she’d kissed him. Swallow. Maybe having Grady in her house again so soon after that faux pas was a mistake. Because those memories she refused to admit to were getting harder to deny by the minute.

  But pork and fried rice sounded so much tastier than those two-minute noodles sitting in her cupboard. How pathetic was that? Unfair on Grady, too. Hey, he was a big boy. In more ways than one. He’d cope. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want to do this. One thing about Grady—he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to.

  Shuffling over to the driver’s side, she reached to pull the door closed that Grady had left open. ‘See you in a while.’ She crashed the gearstick into place and jerked her foot off the accelerator, sending the four-wheel drive bunny-hopping out of the car park.

  ‘Excellent, Sasha. Now you’re a ballet dancer on wheels.’ In the rear-view mirror she saw Grady standing, hands on hips, shaking his head. ‘So you don’t like dancers. What do you like these days, Grady O’Neil? Who are the women you’ve dated since I last saw you? Beautiful ones, I’ll bet. Exciting and fun, or serious and safe?’

  Her good mood evaporated. She hated the thought of those other women with Grady. Even though she’d had other men, and had loved one a lot. Grady had been hers. But not any more.

  *

  ‘Hey, Dad, how was your trip?’ Sasha wrapped her arms around her father and hugged tight. One of the good things about returning home was Dad hugs. They’d been a part of her life from as far back as she could remember.

  ‘A darned sight less drama-ridden than things back here.’ He squeezed her and stepped back, his eyes dropping to her protruding tummy. ‘How is my granddaughter today?’

  Sasha grabbed his hand and placed it where Flipper was kicking up a storm. ‘She’s been making up for lost time all day.’ Watching Dad’s eyes mist over as he felt the movement, her throat clogged with emotion. ‘Melanie’s doing fine, Dad. Everything’s on target.’ She winced as another kick caught at her. ‘Right on target. I think I’ve got a women’s soccer rep in there.’

  ‘Melanie?’ Dad whispered as he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. ‘You’re naming her after your grandmother? My mother?’ he emphasised.

  ‘Yes. Melanie Wilson the second. I’m giving her a lot to live up to, I know, but I’m sure she’ll manage.’

  Mum handed Dad a box of tissues and shunted him aside. ‘My turn.’ Her arms wrapped around Sasha’s neck and she planted a soppy kiss on her cheek. ‘That baby gave us a huge scare yesterday. When Grady phoned I had a wee cry.’

  Grady. The name dropped between them. Mum would have a thousand questions. Dad might, too. They’d both liked Grady and had been hurt when he’d dumped her.

  Sasha unwound Mum’s arms, noting the slight tremors, and tried hard not to show any tears. No way did Mum want any sympathy, went nuts if anyone said anything about her illness. Which left Grady to talk about, and she so did not want to go there. ‘Sorry I didn’t phone. I was almost incoherent with panic.’ She met Dad’s gaze. Saw the empathy there for her predicament. ‘So much for being the cool, calm nurse.’

  ‘Yesterday you were a mother, not a nurse,’ Mum told her. ‘Are you staying for dinner?’

  ‘Not tonight, sorry. It’s been a long day and I really want to get home.’ That wasn’t a fib.

  ‘What are you cooking?’ Dad asked, his shrewd eyes watching her every movement.

  ‘Sweet and sour pork with fried rice.’ That wasn’t quite a fib either.

  ‘Where did you find Chinese food? Has a new place opened in the week I’ve been away?’ He turned to Mum, who shook her head, turned back. ‘Sasha?’

  ‘Grady’s cooking. He insisted and I didn’t have the energy to keep saying no.’ Neither was that a fib.

  ‘Good for him.’ Mum grinned.

  ‘Are you seeing Grady again?’ Dad asked, a load of caution lacing his voice.

  ‘No, Dad, I’m not. He’s been doing some hours for the medical centre so there’s no avoiding him. Then, Grady being Grady, he insisted on driving me over to Nelson last night.’

  ‘Thank goodness he did.’ Mum seemed determined to make the whole Grady thing a rosy picture. Did she want a father for Flipper? Did that make her prepared to welcome Grady into the family so easily?

  ‘Look…’ Sasha drew a shaky breath. ‘Grady’s back here to prepare his house for sale and then he’s heading off again. We are not getting back together. Not now, not ever. It would never work.’

  Dad laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘Trying too hard to convince us? Or to convince yourself, love?’

  The trouble with her father was that he knew her too well, had always been able to read her like a book, because they were so similar in character. Reaching up on her toes, she placed a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’ll be over to help with the avocados after work tomorrow. I’m sure they need thinning.’

  ‘No need. We’ve got it covered.’ Dad went to the front door with her, held it open as she stepped out into the cold night.

  She noted the clear sky and the condensation in the air in front of her mouth. ‘Could be a frost tonight.’

  ‘Tread carefully, Sasha.’

  As she slid back into her vehicle she knew Dad wasn’t talking about the slippery steps or path.

  She waved as she drove out onto the road home. And dinner with Grady. ‘I’m trying really hard, Dad, believe me. But nothing seems to be going according to plan right now.’

  *

  The delicious aroma of fried rice teased Sasha’s nostrils as she let herself into her cottage. She could so easily get used to this. Squeezing into the kitchen, she told Grady, ‘That smells divine.’

  He turned from the bench where he was stirring soy sauce and crushed garlic together. ‘Better than your box of noodles?’

  I shouldn’t have agreed to this. The tiny kitchen couldn’t hold both of them without them rubbing against each other. Crossing to the alcove that served as her dining room, she stopped. The table was set, waiting for her. ‘Oh. Right.’ Now what? She turned back to the kitchen. ‘Do you want a beer or something?’

  Grady lifted an open bottle from the bench. ‘Sorted, thanks.’

  Okay. Um, guess there wasn’t anything to do except wait for that food that looked so good in the deep pan he was using as a wok. ‘I’ll go and change out of my work clothes, then.’ She shot past him, ignoring the raised eyebrows and quirky smile on his gorgeous face. Gorgeous face?

  Yeah, Dad, as you can see, I’m trying really hard to keep my distance.

  ‘Don’t be long.
I’m almost ready.’ Grady’s voice followed her down to her bedroom. So ordinary, normal. Grady in the kitchen, preparing dinner, while she’d been visiting her parents. Now they’d sit down together and eat, talk about their day. Like a couple. A couple with their first baby on the way.

  Yeah, Dad, I’m trying really hard.

  Grady would be a super father. The kind any kid would want to rush home to at the end of school and tell him about all the things she’d done during the day. Did her baby need a father? Right from the day she popped out?

  Flipper had needed one yesterday. As she’d needed Grady. Hard to imagine how she’d have coped without him being there for her.

  ‘I’d have done what I always do—sucked it up and got on with it. Having Grady hanging around made it easier to give in to the fear and panic gripping me.’

  She sank onto the edge of her bed, stared around the room she’d made cosy with the quilts she’d inherited from her grandmother. They were works of art, full of vibrant colours and intriguing patterns. Apart from the terracotta and cream-coloured log-cabin quilt on her bed there were three others in greens, blues and more terracotta lying on the chair in the corner and over the wooden clothes rack in the opposite corner. All made by her grandmother.

  Closing her eyes, she could picture Grandma hand-piecing together intricate shapes of fabric, slowly, painstakingly, creating another magical quilt. Grandma. Sasha’s hands went to her tummy. Melanie.

  What are you going to be like, baby girl? Sweet and kind, like your great-grandma? Tough and determined, like your grandma? Daredevil and wild, like your mum and grandfather?

  Please, not like Dad and me. I don’t think I could bear to have to sit at home, waiting for you to return from some dangerous escapade.

  This whole motherhood thing was huge. Terrifying. Exciting. Massive. Was she up to it? Too late. It had been too late since she’d gone to Fiji for a week with greaseball Freddy. Her hands gripped the quilt on either side of her butt. He might’ve turned out to be a waste of space but he had given her Flipper, and no matter what the future brought she’d be grateful for that. She might have to work hard at being the best mother but nothing would get in the way of her trying.