A Month to Marry the Midwife

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘What if she comes in again then? After she comes home?’

  Then they would act as necessary. ‘We transfer again. By then the baby will be at an age where he or she can fight when we get a bed in a NICU.’

  ‘We didn’t get to twenty-four weeks last time.’ Worry clouded her eyes.

  He resisted the urge to put his hand on her shoulder and tell her to stop worrying. He knew she’d push him away. But the really strange thing was that he even wanted to reach out—this need for connection was new in itself.

  He had this! He’d never worried about a response from a woman he was trying to reassure before and wasn’t sure how to address it. Or even if he wanted to. Instead he jammed his hand into his pocket and jiggled his keys while he kept his conversation on the subject she was interested in. ‘With treatment and persistence, we will this time.’

  ‘Then they’re lucky you’re here.’ Now she looked at him in the way he’d wanted her to since he’d met her. But this time he didn’t feel worthy.

  But he forced a smile. ‘Finally—praise. And now I’m going.’ The sooner he did the clinic, the sooner he could come back and check on her.

  * * *

  Ellie watched him walk away. Marni was lucky. She didn’t feel so lucky, because a nice guy was the last thing she needed. Why was he being so friendly? She couldn’t trust him no matter how nice he was. He’d be here in her face for another three weeks, that was all. Then he’d never come back. Why had his father had to break his arm and send the son?

  She closed the file with a snap. Life was out to get her.

  She heard the plaintive thought even though she didn’t say it out loud and screwed her face up. Stop whining, she scolded herself and stood up. We are lucky to have him. Very lucky.

  But she couldn’t help the murky thoughts that were left over from the nightmare. The next day was always a struggle when she’d had the dream. And sometimes it meant she’d get some form of contact from Wayne, as if he was cosmically connected to her dream state so that she was off-balance when he did contact her.

  ‘Hello, my lovely.’ Myra’s cheerful voice broke into her thoughts and thankfully scattered them like little black clouds blown away by a fresh breeze. Then the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted towards her from the stylish china mug Myra was holding out for her.

  ‘I hear you had a call-out so I’ve brought you a kick-start. Though it’s not much of a kick.’ She grimaced with distaste at the sacrilege of good coffee. ‘Half-strength latte.’

  Ellie stood up and took the mug. The milky decoration on top looked like a rose this morning. Ellie blew a kiss to the silver-haired lady who always looked quietly elegant in her perfectly co-ordinated vintage outfits. She reminded Ellie of the heroine from a nineteen-twenties detective show, except with silver hair. Myra had said that the only things she’d missed when she’d moved to Lighthouse Bay from Sydney were the vintage clothes shops.

  Ellie sipped. ‘Oh, yum.’ She could hug her friend and not just for the coffee. Myra always made her feel better. ‘Just what I need. Thank you. How are you?’

  ‘Fine. Of course.’ Myra seated herself gracefully in the nurse’s chair beside Ellie. ‘I’m going away for the weekend, this afternoon—’ she looked away and then back ‘—and I wondered if you’d feed Millicent.’

  ‘Of course.’ Myra’s black cat drifted between both crofts anyway and if Myra was away Millicent would miaow at Ellie’s front door for attention. ‘Easily done. I still have tinned food from last time.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Myra changed the subject. ‘And how are you going with our new doctor?’

  Ellie took another sip. Perfect. ‘He seems as popular with the women as old Dr Southwell.’

  Myra looked away again and, despite her general vagueness due to lack of sleep from the night before, Ellie felt the first stirrings of suspicion. ‘I know you like him.’

  ‘Sam and I have coffee together every morning. A lovely young man. Very like his father. What do you think of him?’ There was definitely emphasis on the ‘you’.

  Myra was not usually so blunt. Ellie’s hand stilled as she lifted it to have another sip. ‘He seems nice.’

  ‘Nice.’ Myra rolled her eyes and repeated, ‘Nice,’ under her breath. ‘He’s been here for nearly a week. The man is positively gorgeous and he has a lovely speaking voice.’

  Ellie pulled a face. Really! ‘So?’

  For once Myra appeared almost impatient. ‘He’s perfect.’

  Ellie was genuinely confused. The cup halted halfway to her mouth. ‘For what?’ Maybe she was just slow today.

  Myra’s eyes opened wide, staring at her as if she couldn’t believe Ellie could be so dense. ‘For you to start thinking about young men as other than just partners of the women whose babies you catch.’

  ‘As a male friend, you mean? You seem awfully invested in this doctor.’ A horrible thought intruded into her coffee-filled senses. Surely not? ‘Did you have anything to do with him coming here?’

  Her friend raised one perfectly drawn eyebrow. ‘And what influence could I possibly have had?’

  It had been a silly thought. Ellie rubbed her brow. She tried to narrow her eyes to show suspicion but suspected she just looked ludicrous. The glint of humour in Myra’s eyes made her give up the wordless attempt. So she said instead, ‘You seemed pretty cosy with his father last time I saw you.’

  Myra ignored that. ‘And what have you got against young Dr Sam?’ She produced a serviette, and unwrapped a dainty purple-tinted macaroon and placed it precisely on the desk in front of Ellie. She must have retrieved it from the safety of her apron pocket. The sneaky woman knew Ellie couldn’t resist them.

  ‘Ooh, lavender macaroon.’ Briefly diverted, Ellie put down her cup and picked up the macaroon.

  Myra was watching her. She said again, ‘He seems a conscientious young man.’

  Ellie dragged her eyes from her prize. ‘Think I said he was nice.’ She looked at the macaroon again. She’d had no breakfast but was planning on morning tea. ‘He’s too nice.’ She picked it up and took a small but almost vicious bite. Sweetness filled her mouth and reminded her how she could be seduced by pretty packages. Wayne had been a pretty package... Her appetite deserted her and she put the remainder of the biscuit back on the plate with distaste.

  ‘Poor macaroon.’ There was affectionate humour in Myra’s voice. ‘Not all men are rotten, you know.’

  Ellie nodded. Myra always seemed to know what she was thinking. Like her mother used to know when she’d been a child. Ellie didn’t want to risk thinking she was a part of Myra’s one-person family. Myra would move on, or Ellie would, and there was no sense in becoming too attached. But she suspected she might be already. It was so precarious. Ellie could manage on her own very well. But back to the real danger—thinking a man could recreate that feeling of belonging. ‘I’ve met many delightful men. Fathers. And grandfathers. The other sort of relationship is just not for me.’

  ‘It’s been two years.’

  This was persistent, even for Myra. ‘Are you matchmaking? You?’ She had another even more horrific thought. ‘Did you and old Dr Southwell cook this up between you?’

  ‘I hardly think Reginald—whom I would prefer you didn’t call old Dr Southwell—would break his arm just to matchmake his son with the midwife at the hospital.’

  Ellie narrowed her eyes. ‘So neither of you discussed how poor Ellie and poor Sam could be good for each other?’

  Myra threw up her hands in a flamboyant gesture that was a little too enthusiastic to be normal. ‘For goodness’ sake, Ellie. Where do you get this paranoia?’

  She hadn’t answered the question, Ellie thought warily, but she couldn’t see why the pair of them would even think about her that way. She was being silly. Still, she fervently hoped Dr Southwell Senior hadn’t menti
oned her as a charity case to his son. That would be too embarrassing and might just explain his friendliness. A charity case...please, no.

  Myra left soon after and Ellie watched her depart with a frown. Thankfully, she was diverted from her uncomfortable suspicions when a pregnant woman presented for her routine antenatal visit, so the next hour was filled. Ellie liked to add an antenatal education component if the women had time. She was finding it helped the women by reducing their apprehension of labour and the first week with the baby after birth.

  Then a woman on a first visit arrived to ask about birthing at Lighthouse Bay instead of the base hospital where she’d had her last baby and Ellie settled down with her to explain their services. Word was getting out, she thought with satisfied enthusiasm.

  The next time Ellie turned around it was lunchtime and she rubbed her brow where a vague headache had settled. She decided lack of sleep was why she felt a little nauseated and tried not to worry that it could be one of the twelve-hour migraines that floored her coming on.

  Renee’s husband arrived, armed with a bunch of flowers, and with their children hopping and wriggling like a box full of field mice, to visit Mum. The way his eyes darted over the children and the worried crease in his forehead hinted that Renee might decide to leave her safe cocoon early and return to running the family.

  Ellie suspected the new mum was becoming bored with her room anyway and could quite easily incorporate her new princess into the wild household and still manage some rest.

  It proved so when a relieved father came back to the desk to ask what they needed to do before discharge.

  ‘It’s all done. Renee has a script for contraception, baby’s been checked by the doctor, and she’s right to go.’

  The relief in his face made Ellie smile at him despite the pain now throbbing in her head. ‘Did you have fun with the kids, Ned?’

  He grimaced. ‘Not so much on my own. They’ve been good, but...’

  Ned carried the smallest, a little carrot-topped boy, and an armful of gift bags out of the ward doorway with a new purpose and possibly less weight on his shoulders. Two more toddlers and a school-aged boy carrying flowers appeared from down the ward, with Renee bringing up the rear with her little princess in her arms, a wide smile on her face.

  The foyer in front of the work station clamoured with young voices, so Ellie missed Sam as he returned from clinic and stood at the side of the room.

  ‘Thank you, both,’ Renee said. ‘It was a lovely holiday.’ She was looking past Ellie to the man behind her.

  Ellie turned in time to see her new nemesis grin back. She didn’t have the fortitude to deal with the ‘charity’ overtones left from Myra, so she turned quickly back again.

  ‘I think you may be busy for a while,’ Sam said to the mother.

  Renee nodded calmly and then winked at Ellie. Lowering her voice, she confided, ‘It does Ned good to have them for a day or two—lets him see what it’s like to be home all day with the darlings in case he’s forgotten.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE AUTOMATIC DOORS closed behind the big family and they both watched them disappear. Sam turned and Ellie saw that flashing smile again. ‘Imagine juggling that mob! It wouldn’t be dull.’

  There was a pause but she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t think of anything to say, which was peculiar for her, and had a lot to do with the fact that her vision had begun to play up. Small flashes of light were exploding behind her eyes. Migraine.

  He filled the silence. ‘Do you enjoy watching the women go home with their new babies?’

  ‘Of course. That’s a silly question!’ He was looking at her with a strange, thoughtful intensity but she was too tired to work it out. She really wasn’t in the mood for games. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘It isn’t about me.’ He paused, as if something was not right. ‘I’m wondering why a young, caring woman is running a little two-bit operation like this in a town that’s mostly populated with retirees and young families.’

  Go. Leave me so I can will this headache away. Her patience stretched nearly to breaking point. ‘Me?’ She needed to sit and have a cup of tea and maybe a couple of headache tablets. ‘Our centre is just as efficient as any other centre of care. What’s the difference between here and the city? Are you a “tertiary hospital or nothing” snob?’

  ‘No.’ He looked at her. ‘“Tertiary hospital” snob?’

  ‘Size isn’t everything, you know.’

  He raised his brows at her. ‘I’m very aware of that. Sorry. I was just wondering when you were going to be one of these women coming in to have your perfect little family.’

  That stung because she knew it wasn’t a part of any future waiting for her on the horizon. Though it should have been. ‘There is no perfect little family.’

  She looked at him coldly, because abruptly the anger bubbled and flared and her head hurt too much to pretend it wasn’t there. ‘Where’s your perfect little family? Where are your children?’

  Lordy, that had sounded terrible. She felt like clapping her hand over her mouth but something about his probing was getting right up her nose.

  He winced but his voice was calm. ‘Not everyone is lucky enough to have children. I probably won’t have any, much to my father’s disgust. You’re a midwife with empathy pouring out of every inch of you, just watching other women become mothers.’

  Easily said. She closed her eyes wearily. ‘There’s no difference between you and me.’

  He didn’t say anything and when she opened her eyes he shook his head slowly. ‘I saw the way you looked at Renee’s baby. And Josie’s. As if each one is a miracle that still amazes you.’

  ‘And you?’ She waved a listless hand. ‘There’s nothing there that spells “misogynist and loner”.’

  He physically stepped back. ‘I really shouldn’t have started this conversation, should I?’

  ‘No.’ She stood up and advanced on him. She even felt the temptation to poke him in the chest. She didn’t. She never poked anyone in the chest. But the pressure in her head combined with the emotion, stresses, and fear from the last few days—fear for Marni’s baby, her horrible fear of frogs and this man who was disrupting her little world—and she knew she had a reason to be running scared. Add lack of sleep and it wasn’t surprising she had a migraine coming on like a fist behind her eyes.

  Stop it, she told herself. She closed her eyes again and then looked down. She said with weary resignation, because she knew she was being unreasonable, ‘Sorry. Can you just go?’

  She didn’t know how she could tell he was looking at her despite the fact she was considering his shoes. His voice floated to her. ‘I’m sorry. My fault for being personal.’

  That made her look up. He actually did look apologetic when it was she who was pouring abuse like a shrew and had lost it. Her head pounded. She felt like she was going to burst into tears. Actually, she felt sick.

  She bolted for the nearest ladies’ room and hoped like hell there wasn’t a frog in the sink.

  Afterwards, when she’d washed her face and didn’t feel much better, she dragged herself to the door, hoping he had gone. Of course, he hadn’t; he had waited for her outside in the corridor.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘Fine.’ The lights behind her eyes flickered and then disappeared into a pinpoint of light. She swayed and everything went dim and then black.

  * * *

  Sam saw the colour drain from Ellie’s face, the skin tone leeching from pink to white in seconds. His brain noted the drama of the phenomenon while his hands automatically reached out and caught her.

  ‘Whoa there,’ he muttered, and scooped her up. She was lighter than he expected, like a child in his arms, though she wasn’t a tiny woman with her long arms and neck that looked almost broken, like a swan’s, as she lay limp
in his embrace.

  Unfortunately there was no denying the surge of protective instinct that flooded him as he rested her gently on the immaculate cover of the nearest bed. He’d really have to watch that. He was already thinking about her too much when he wasn’t here, when in fact it was unusual for him to feel anything for anybody at all.

  Her damn collar was buttoned to the neck again—how on earth did she stand it?—and he undid the first and second buttons and placed his finger gently against her warm skin to feel the beating of her carotid artery.

  Her skin was like silk and warmer than he expected. She must be brewing something. Sudden onset, pallor, faint... He didn’t know her but she hadn’t struck him as the fainting type... Before he could decide what to do she groaned and her eyelids fluttered. Then she was staring up at him. Her blue eyes were almost violet. Quite beautiful.

  ‘Where am I?’

  He glanced at the sign on the door. ‘Room one.’

  She drew her dark brows together impatiently. ‘How did I get here?’

  ‘You fainted.’

  The brows went up. ‘You carried me?’ He quite liked her brows. Amusing little blighters. Her words penetrated and he realised he was going mad again. She was the only one who did that to him.

  He repeated. ‘You fainted. I caught you. Can’t have you hitting your head.’ She struggled to sit up and he helped her. ‘Slowly does it.’

  ‘I never faint.’

  He bit back the smile. ‘I’m afraid you can’t say that any more.’

  She actually sagged a little at that and he bit back another smile. Behind her now not-so-tightly buttoned collar, which she hadn’t noticed he’d unbuttoned, she wasn’t the tough matron she pretended to be. She was cute, though he’d die rather than tell her that. He could just imagine the explosion. ‘Stay there. I’ll get you some water.’ He paused at the door. ‘Did you eat breakfast this morning?’