She passed a hand over her face. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘I’ll get you water and then I’ll get you something to eat.’ He could already tell she was going to protest. ‘You made me coffee on Monday. I can do this for you. It’d be too embarrassing to fall into my arms again, right?’
She subsided. The fact she stayed put actually gave him a sense of wicked satisfaction that made his lips curve. Tough luck. My rules this time.
With a stab of painful guilt that washed away any amusement, he remembered he hadn’t looked after Bree enough, hadn’t been able to save her, or his own premature children. But maybe he could look after Ellie—at least for the month he was here.
He heard her talking to herself as he left. ‘I’ll have to get a relief midwife to come in.’
He walked out for the water but didn’t know where to get the glass from. He’d have to ask her, so was back a few seconds later.
She was still mumbling. ‘I’ll be out for at least twelve hours.’
He stopped beside the bed. ‘Does your head hurt?’
She glared at him. ‘Like the blazes. I thought you were getting water.’
‘Cups?’
‘Oh. Paper ones on the wall beside the tap.’
Ellie closed her eyes as Sam left the room. How embarrassing! She hadn’t fainted in her life and now she’d done it in front of a man she’d particularly wanted to maintain professional barriers with. She’d never fainted with a migraine before. Oh, goody, something new to add to the repertoire.
Where was Myra when she needed her? She wished Sam would just leave. Though when he returned with the water she gulped it thirstily.
‘Go easy. I don’t have a bowl or know where they live.’
Ellie pulled the paper cup away from her lips. He was right. She was still feeling sensitive but her throat was dry and raw. She sank back against the pillows. She’d have to strip this bed because she’d crumpled it.
Maybe the weekend midwife could come early. This afternoon. She’d meant to go shopping for food and now she knew she didn’t have the energy. She’d just hole up until tomorrow, when she’d be fine. The thoughts rolled around in her head, darting from one half-considered worry to another.
‘Stop it.’
She blinked. ‘Stop what?’
‘Trying to solve all the logistical problems you can see because you do everything around here.’
‘How do you know I’m thinking that?’ It came out more plaintively than she’d expected. How did he know she did do most things?
He looked disgustingly pleased with himself. ‘Because the expressions on your face mirror your every thought. Like reading a book.’
Great. Not! ‘Well, stop reading my book.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ But his eyes said, I quite like it.
She reached down into her fast fading resources. ‘If you would like to help, could you please ask Myra to come around from the coffee shop?’
‘Myra has left for the weekend. Going away somewhere. There’s a young woman holding the fort, if you would like a sandwich.’
Her heart sank. Clarise... Clarise could make toast, which might help, but she’d have to do everything else herself. ‘Already? Damn.’
‘Can I do something for you?’ He spread his hands. ‘I’ve done all my homework.’
Ellie looked at him. Tall, too handsome, and relaxed with one hand in his pocket. Leaning on the door jamb as if he had all the time in the world. She had a sudden picture of him in his usual habitat surrounded by a deferential crowd of students, the man with all the answers, dealing with medical emergencies with swift decision and effectiveness. She had no right to give this man a hard time. Her head throbbed and the light was hurting her eyes. Now she felt like crying again. Stupid weakness.
His voice intruded on her thoughts and there was understanding in his eyes, almost as if he knew how much she hated this. ‘You look sad. Is it so bad to have to ask me for help?’
My word, it is. ‘Yes.’
Of course he smiled at that. ‘Pretend I’m someone you hired.’
‘I don’t have to pretend. I did hire you.’
He laughed at that. ‘Technically the administration officer hired me.’
‘That would be me.’
‘So what would you like me to do?’
She sat up carefully and swung her legs over the bed. He came in closer as if to catch her if she fell. It was lucky, because her head swam and she didn’t want to smack the linoleum with her face.
‘Just make sure I make it to the desk and the phone and the rest I can manage. Maybe you could stay in case anyone else comes in while we wait for my replacement. Even I can see there’s no use me being here if I can’t be trusted not to fall on my face.’
‘Especially when it’s far too pretty a face to fall on.’
She looked at him. Narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t even go there.’
He held up his hands but she suspected he was laughing at her again. Together they made their way over to the desk and with relief she sank into her usual chair. She reached into her handbag, pulled out her sunglasses and put them on. The pain from the glare eased.
* * *
It only took an hour for her replacement to arrive but it felt like six. She just wanted to lie down. In fact her replacement’s arrival had been arranged faster than expected, and was only possible because the midwife had decided to spend an extra day at Lighthouse Beach, on the bay, before work.
Ellie had sipped half a cup of tea. She’d taken two strong headache tablets and really wanted to sink into her bed. Standing at the door with her bag over her arm, she wasn’t sure how she was going to get up the hill to her croft.
‘I’ll drive you.’
He was back. And he’d read her mind again. She wished he’d stop doing that. He’d left for an outpatient in the other part of the hospital after Ellie had assured him she’d be fine until the relief midwife arrived and she had been hoping to sneak away.
She’d have loved to say no. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll have to take you up on that offer.’
‘So graciously accepted,’ he gently mocked.
He was right. But she didn’t care. All she could think about was getting her head down and sinking into a deep sleep.
He ushered her to his car, and made sure she was safely tucked in before he shut the door.
‘Do you always walk to work?’
‘It’s only at the top of the hill.’ She rested her head back against the soft leather headrests and breathed in the aroma of money. Not something she’d sniffed a lot of in her time. ‘I always walk except in the rain. It’s a little slippery on the road when it’s wet.’
‘Did you come down in the dark, last night?’
She didn’t bother opening her eyes. ‘I have a torch.’
‘You should drive down at night.’
Spare me. ‘It’s two hundred and fifty metres.’
He put the car into gear, turned up the steep hill and then turned a sharp left away from the lighthouse, onto the road with three cottages spaced privately along the headland. ‘Who owns the other ones?’
‘I’m in the first, Myra is the end one and the middle one is Trina, so try not to rev your engine because she’s probably sleeping.’
‘I’ll try not to.’ Irony lay thick in his voice. He parked outside the first cottage and turned the car off. She’d hoped she could just slip out and he’d drive away.
They sat for a moment with the engine ticking down. Ellie’s headache had reached the stage where she didn’t want to move and she could feel his glance on her. She didn’t check to see if she was imagining it. Then she heard his door open and the car shifted as he got out.
When her door opened the cool salt air and the crash from the waves on the
cliffs below rushed in and she revived a little.
Sam spoke slowly and quietly as if to a frightened child. ‘If you give me the key, I could open the door for you?’
‘It’s not locked.’
‘You’re kidding me?’ The words hung in disbelief above her. Apparently that concept wasn’t greeted with approval. He said in a flat voice, ‘Tonight it should be.’
She held her head stiffly, trying not to jar it, and turned in the seat. She locked it at night but the daytime was a test for herself. She would not let her life be run by fear. ‘Thank you for the lift.’
He put out his hand and Ellie wearily decided it was easier just to take it and use his strength to achieve a vertical position. Her legs wobbled a bit. He hissed out a breath and picked her up.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey, what?’ A tinge of impatience shone through.
‘You’ll fall down if you try to walk by yourself.’
And then she was cradled tight against his solid warm chest and carried carefully towards her door. He leant her against the solid wood and turned the handle, then they were both inside.
* * *
Sam had expected the inside to be made up of smaller compartments but it was a big room that held everything. There was a tiny kitchen at the back with a chimney over the big, old wood-burner stove. A shiny gas stove and refrigerator stood next to it and a scrubbed wooden table and four chairs.
A faded but beautiful Turkish rug drew the sections of the home together in the middle where it held a soft cushioned sofa with a coffee table in front that faced the full-length glass doors out to sea. Bookshelves lined the rear walls and a couple of dark lighthouse paintings were discernible in the corners. There was a fireplace. A big red-and-white Malibu surfboard leant against the wall. His father’s. He looked at it for a moment then away.
A patchwork-quilted wooden bed sat half-hidden behind a floral screen, pastel sheets and towels were stacked neatly in open shelves and across the room was a closed door which he presumed was the bathroom. Nothing like the sterile apartment he’d moved into after Bree’s death and where he’d never unpacked properly.
The bed, he decided, and carried her across and placed her gently on the high bed’s quilt.
‘Come in,’ she said with an exhausted edge to her voice as he put her down. Talk about ungrateful.
He stepped back and looked at her. She looked limp, with flushed spots in her pale face. Still so pale. Pale and interesting. She was too interesting and she was sick. He told himself she was a big girl. But that didn’t mean he liked leaving her. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea before I go?’
‘No, thank you.’
He sighed and glanced at the room behind him again, as if seeking inspiration. He saw his dad’s surfboard again. He’d said the midwife was minding it for him and that Sam should try it out. Maybe he would one day. But not today. It would be a good reason to come back.
He glanced through the double-glazed doors facing the ocean and he could imagine it would be a fabulous sight on wild weather days. But it was also too high up and exposed for him to feel totally comfortable. And she lived here alone.
He thought about the other two crofts and their occupants. It was a shame Myra was away.
‘How about I leave a note for Trina and ask her if she’ll check on you later?’ Before she goes to work for the night and leaves you up here all alone, he added silently.
‘No, thank you.’ Her eyes were shut and he knew she was wishing him gone.
She was so stubborn. Why did he care? But he did. ‘It’s that or I’ll come back.’
She opened her eyes. ‘Fine. Leave a note for Trina. Ask if she’ll drop in just before dark. I’ll probably be fine by then.’
Sounded reasonable. Then she could lock the door.
That was all he could do. He saw her fight to raise her head and tilt it meaningfully at the door and he couldn’t think of any other reason to stay.
He walked to the sink. Took a rinsed glass from the dish rack and filled it with water. Carried it back without a word and put it beside her. Then he felt in his pocket, retrieved his wallet and took out a business card. ‘That’s my mobile number. Ring me if you become seriously ill. Or if you need medication. I’ll come. No problem.’
Then he tore himself away and shut the door carefully behind him, grimacing to himself that he couldn’t lock it. Anybody could come up here and just waltz in while she was sleeping. Surely she locked it at night?
When he went next door and wrote on another of his business cards, he decided he should at least see if he could hear if Trina was awake. He walked all the way around the little house. Because he could. It was just like Ellie’s, though there was a hedge separating them from each other and the cliff path that ran in front of the houses.
Anybody could walk all the way around these houses. The view was impressively dramatic, except he didn’t enjoy it. The little crofts clung to the edge of the cliff like fat turtles and the narrow walkway against the cliff made his mouth dry.
At least the dwellings looked like they wouldn’t blow off into the sea. They were thick-walled, with shutters tied back until needed for the really wild weather. Daring the ocean winds to try and shift them.
He was back at the front door again. No sounds from Trina’s. She could sleep right through until tonight. He’d have to come back himself. Before dark, like Ellie had said.
Sam drove back down the hill to his guesthouse. He let himself in the quaint side entrance with his key and up the stairs to his balcony room. He threw the keys from his pocket onto the dresser, opened the little fridge, took out a bottle of orange juice and sipped it thoughtfully as he walked towards the windows.
She’d sleep for a while. He wished she’d let him stay but of course she’d sleep better without him prowling around. He knew it was selfish because if he’d been there he wouldn’t have had to worry about her. Being away from her like this, he couldn’t settle.
He felt a sudden tinge of remorse that made him grimace, an admission of unfaithfulness to Bree’s memory. It hung like a mist damning him, because he was so fixated on Ellie, but also underneath was a little touch of relief that he was still capable of finally feeling something other than guilt and devastation.
His father would be pleased. He’d say it was time to let go of the millstone of his guilt over Bree, that it was holding him back and not doing the memory of their relationship justice. Was it time finally to allow himself the freedom to feel something for someone else?
His heartbeat accelerated at the thought but he told himself it would all be fine. He was only here for another few weeks, after all, and he’d be heading home after that. Strangely, the time limit helped to make him feel more comfortable with his strange urge to look after Ellie.
The sun shone and turned the blue of the ocean to a brilliant sapphire and he decided he’d go for another swim. No wonder his dad had raved about this place. Then he’d go back and check on Ellie after he’d showered.
CHAPTER FIVE
ELLIE HEARD SAM close the door when he left. She pulled the blanket up higher to calm the shudders that wracked her body. He’d been very good, and she should have said thank you, but the headache had built steadily again. It was easier to breathe in and out deeply, to make it go away and wait for sleep to claim her, and then maybe she’d wake up and all this would just have been a bad dream. Her hair was heavy on her forehead and she brushed it away. She was too disinclined to move to take a sip of the water he’d put there. Mercifully, everything faded.
When she fell asleep she had the nightmare.
She moaned because her head hurt as well.
Slowly the afternoon passed. As evening closed in the nightmares swirled around her, mixed themselves with imagined and remembered events.
But while she slept her trou
bled sleep there were moments when she felt safe. Moments when she felt a damp, refreshing washcloth on her brow. She dreamt she sipped fluid and it was cool and soothing on her throat. Even swallowed some tablets.
The bad dream returned. Incidents from her time with Wayne mixed in with it. Incidents from their spiral downhill flashed through her mind: cameos of her hurt and bewilderment when he’d barely spoken to her, mocked and ridiculed her...her phobia, her need for nurturing. Screaming he never wanted a family that time she’d thought she was pregnant. All she wanted was a family.
The dream flashed to the afternoon at the swimming pool again and she moaned in the bed. Twisted the sheets in her hand.
She fought the change room door. Ran into the boys outside...
She sobbed. She sobbed and sobbed.
‘It’s okay, sweetheart. Stop. My God. It’s okay.’
The words were seeping through the horror and the mists of sweat and anguish. Sam’s voice. His arms were around her. Her head was tucked into his chest, her hair was being stroked.
‘Ellie. Wake up. It’s a dream. Wake up!’
Ellie opened her eyes and a shirt button was pressing into her nose. A man’s shirt.
‘It’s okay.’ It was Sam’s voice, Sam’s big hands rubbing her back. A man’s scent. So it must be Sam’s shirt. Sam?
She was still foggy but clearing fast. What was he doing here? She pushed him away.
His hands moved back and his body shifted to the edge of the bed from where he’d reached for her. ‘That’s some nightmare.’
She brushed her damp hair out of her face, muttered, ‘Why are you here?’
‘Because Trina is at work, Myra’s away and I wasn’t sure you wouldn’t get worse.’
He raised his brows and shook his head. ‘You did get worse. It’s almost midnight and you’ve been mumbling and tossing most of the evening. If you didn’t get better soon I was going to admit you and put up a drip.’
A Month to Marry the Midwife Page 6
