Dimly she realised her head didn’t hurt any more but it felt dense like a bowling ball, and just as heavy. It would clear soon, she knew that, but she couldn’t just lie here crumpled and teary. The tendrils of the nightmare retreated and she wiped her face and shifted herself back up the bed away from him, pushing the last disquieting memories back into their dark place in her brain at the same time.
As she wriggled, he reached and flipped the pillows over and rearranged them so she could sit up.
Then he rose. She wasn’t sure if that was better because now he towered over her, and it must have shown on her face, because he moved back and then turned away to walk to the kitchen alcove.
He switched on the jug, turned his head towards her and said quietly, ‘Would you like a drink? Something hot?’
Her mouth tasted like some dusty desert cavern. She’d kill for a cup of tea. Maybe it wasn’t so bad he was here. ‘Yes, please. Tea?’ She sounded like a scared kitten. She cleared her throat, mumbled, ‘Thank you,’ in a slightly stronger voice. She glanced down at her crumpled uniform but it was gone and she was in her bra and pants. Her face flushed as she yanked the covers up to her neck.
‘You took off my shirt and trousers?’
‘You were tangled in them. Sweating. I asked you and you said yes.’
She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘I don’t remember that.’
He came back with the mug of tea. ‘I’m not surprised. You’ve been barely coherent. If that’s a migraine, I hope I don’t get one. Nasty.’
‘I can’t believe you undressed me.’
He waggled his brows. ‘I left the essentials on.’
Her face grew even hotter. Cheeky blighter.
He put the tea down beside her. ‘Do you have a dressing gown or something I can get you?’
‘In the bathroom, hanging behind the door.’ She took a sip and it tasted wonderful. Black. Not too hot. He must have put cold water in it so she didn’t burn her tongue. That was thoughtful. While she sipped he poked his head into the little bathroom and returned with her gown.
Speaking of the bathroom... She needed to go, and imagined taking a shower. Oh, yes...that wouldn’t go astray either if she could stay standing long enough to have it. The idea of feeling fresh and clean again grew overpoweringly attractive.
‘Um... If you turn around, I’d like to get up.’
He considered her and must have decided she had more stamina than she thought she had because he nodded.
‘Sure.’ He crossed his arms and turned around, presenting his broad back to her. She shifted herself to the edge of the bed and swung her legs out. For a moment the room tilted and then it righted.
‘You okay?’ His voice came but he didn’t turn. At least he played fair.
‘Fine.’ She took another breath, reached down and snatched clean underwear and a nightgown from the drawer beside her bed and stood up on wobbly legs. By the time she shut the door behind her in the bathroom, she was feeling better than she expected. Good tea.
By the time she showered and donned her nightdress and dressing gown again, she was feeling almost human.
When she opened the door the steam billowed into the room and for a moment she thought the cottage was empty. But he was sitting on the sofa with his head resting back and she remembered he’d been here all evening.
Guilt swamped her and she padded silently towards him to see if he’d fallen asleep. His eyes were definitely open as she tipped her head down to peer at him. There was a black cat at his feet. She’d forgotten Myra’s cat.
‘Did you feed Millicent?’
He patted the sofa seat beside him. ‘Yes. She had sardines. You look better. I’ll go soon, but first tell me about your dream.’
Instinctively she shook her head but she saw there were two cups and her teapot on the low table in front of him. She could do another civilised cup of tea after he’d been so good.
She remembered his arms, comforting her, making her feel safe, as though she were finding refuge from the mental storm she’d created from her past, and her cheeks heated.
She pulled her dressing gown neckline closer and sat gingerly a safe distance along the sofa from him. ‘Thank you for looking after me,’ she said, and even to her own ears it sounded prim and stilted.
‘You. Are. Very. Welcome.’ He enunciated slowly as if to a child, and she glanced at him to see if he was making fun of her. There was a twinkle, but mostly there was genuine kindness without any dramatics.
She glanced back at the bed. It was suspiciously tidy. And a different colour. ‘Did you change the sheets?’
‘I did. The damp ones are on the kitchen chair. Where is your laundry in your little hobbit house?’
She had to smile at that. ‘Does that make me a hobbit?’
‘If so, you’re a pretty little hobbit.’
‘That’s a bit personal between a doctor and a patient, isn’t it?’
He waggled his finger, making the point. ‘You are my friend. Definitely not my patient. I’m glad I didn’t have to admit you.’
She wasn’t quite sure how to take that and then he said very quietly, ‘But listening to you suffer through those dreams was pretty personal. You nearly broke my heart.’
She moved to rise but he touched her arm. ‘As your non-doctor friend, can I say I think now is a really good time for you to share your nightmares. Stop the power they have over you.’
She shivered but she subsided and glanced around the room. Anywhere but at him. The dish rack was empty. No dirty dishes. Distractions would be good. ‘Have you eaten?’
He patted his flat belly. ‘I ate early, before I came. In case I needed to stay. But I’ve helped myself to your tea.’
His arm came out and quite naturally he slid it around her waist. Bizarrely her body remembered that feeling, although her memory didn’t, as he pulled her snug up against his firm hip. ‘Tell me. Was it frogs?’
She shuddered. ‘It’s a long story.’
She felt him shrug under her. ‘We have many hours until morning.’
She looked at him. ‘It’s not that long a story.’
He chuckled quietly, and it was an ‘everything is normal even though we are sitting like this in the dark’ sound, and despite the unconventional situation she felt herself relax against him.
‘I’m all ears,’ he said.
She turned her head and looked at him. ‘They’re big but I wouldn’t say you are all ears.’
‘Stop procrastinating.’
So she told him about the frog in the change room at school and the boys and, hearing it out loud for the second time since the therapist, she felt some of the power of it drain away. It was a little girl’s story. Dramatic at the time but so long ago it shouldn’t affect her now. In the cool quiet of the morning, with waves crashing distantly, she could accept that the frog was long dead and the little boys were all probably daddies with their own children now. That quite possibly Sam’s idea of repeating it now could have merit because it seemed to have muted its power.
He said thoughtfully, ‘If you could go back in time, to the morning before that, if you could prepare that little girl in some way, how could you help that young Ellie? What would you tell her?’
She thought about that. Wondered about what the misty memory of her mother might have said to her as a little girl if she had known it was going to happen.
‘The frog is more frightened than you are?’ The words came from some distant place she couldn’t recognise but with them came a gentle wave of comfort. Relief, even. She thought of the child that she had been all those years ago. Sad eyes under the pony tail, freckles, scuffed knees from climbing tress to get away from teasing boys.
‘If I had the chance. That might help her,’ she said, and looked at Sam.
Sam nod
ded and squeezed her shoulder. ‘So it was the same dream. Over and over?’
She looked at the floor. ‘The other one’s an even longer story and I don’t think I’m up to that tonight.’
He looked at her and she shifted under his scrutiny. ‘Okay. So, will you invite me back?’
Why on earth would he want to come back after these last exhausting hours? ‘For frog stories?’
He shrugged again. ‘There doesn’t have to be stories. Can’t I come back because I’d like to come back?’
She felt the shift in herself. Felt the weight of his arm, suddenly unbearable. Could almost imagine the bricks all slamming together between them, creating a wall like a scene in a fantasy movie.
Her voice was flat. Different from what it had sounded like only minutes ago. There was no way he could miss the change. ‘You live in Brisbane. Your world is different to mine. We’ll never be friends.’ She tried to shrug off his arm and after a moment he let it fall. He shifted his body away to give her space and she appreciated his acceptance.
He looked at her and suddenly she felt the wall go up from him as well. Contrarily, she immediately wanted the openness that had been there before. Served her right.
But his voice was calm. It hadn’t changed like hers had. ‘I disagree. Friends can be made on short acquaintance. I’d like to come back later today and just check you’re okay.’
Was he thick? Or just stubborn? How did she say no after he’d sat up here and minded her? Made her tea? After all, he would be gone in a few weeks. ‘Did you give me water and wipe my face?’
He nodded. ‘I didn’t think you’d remember that. You weren’t awake.’
‘There were parts of the dream that weren’t all bad.’ She looked at him. ‘It gets cool here in the night. Were you warm enough?’
He gestured to the throw folded at the end of the sofa. ‘If somebody had visited, they would have found a very strange man wearing a blanket.’
She digested that and said simply, ‘Thank you.’ She shook her head because she couldn’t understand the mystery of his actions. ‘Why did you stay?’
He shrugged. As if it was nothing special. No mystery for him. Lucky him. ‘Because I didn’t know if you would actually ring me if you needed help. You might have needed someone and I couldn’t see anyone else coming.’
He’d stayed out of pity. The thought sat like dirty oil in the bottom of her stomach. She shouldn’t have been surprised, because she was alone. No family. No husband. ‘So you felt sorry for me.’
Sam compressed his lips as if being very careful about what came out of his mouth. She could live with the truth as long as it was the truth.
‘I had sympathy for you, yes. You were unwell. I hope you would have done it for me if the roles had been reversed.’
She thought about that. Narrowed her eyes. ‘Maybe. That’s a sneaky way of wriggling out of the “pity” accusation.’
He sighed. Stood up. ‘I’m tired. And I might yet get called out. I’m going home. I’ll drop back before lunch and see how you are.’
‘You could just call me on the phone to check on me.’
He studied her. ‘I’ll drop back after I do a round at the hospital.’
She stood up, careful to keep distance between them. ‘You don’t have to do rounds on the weekend. Only if they call you.’
He shrugged. ‘Patients are still there. I’ll do a round every day unless I can’t.’ He gestured to the corner of the room. ‘You should go back to bed. I think you’ll sleep better now.’ Then he walked to the door, opened it and quietly closed it after himself. She heard the lock click.
* * *
Sam walked away but his thoughts remained focussed on the little cabin on top of the hill. There was something about Ellie, and this place, that connected so strongly with his emotions. He didn’t know what it was about her that made him feel so anxious to help. Shame he hadn’t been able to break through the barriers to Bree the way he seemed to be able to with Ellie, especially as for the last few years he hadn’t really connected to anyone. He glanced out over the bay as he walked down the hill to the hospital. The lighthouse seemed to look down on him with benevolence.
CHAPTER SIX
ELLIE WENT BACK to the bed. Climbed into the clean sheets that a man she’d only known for less than a week had changed for her. She saw the hospital corners and wondered who’d taught him to make a bed like that. It certainly wouldn’t have been med school. She looked at the half-full glass of water he’d left her in a fresh glass.
Then she thought of the fact she’d been in her underwear when she’d woken properly, and wondered with pink cheeks when he’d undressed her. Had she helped him, or fought him, or been a limp lump he’d had to struggle with? Had she missed the opportunity of a lifetime?
She frowned at the random and totally inappropriate thought. How on earth would she face him? Then stopped herself. It’s done. You’re not eight years old now.
She considered the result of holding in the swimming pool incident for all those years and even now the tragedy was fading. When Sam returned to Brisbane she’d be able to thank him for that, too.
Her eyes closed and it didn’t happen immediately but eventually she drifted off and, strangely, she didn’t dream at all.
* * *
The next morning was Saturday. Ellie woke after the sun was well and truly up and lay with her eyes open for several minutes as she went over the recent events, both hazy and clear, and how a man who was almost a stranger had taken control of her world, if only for a few hours.
Even a few days ago the idea of that happening would have been ludicrous but in the cold light of day she could be grateful if a little wary. He’d been circumspect, really. Except for taking off her uniform but then she would have done the same if she’d been nursing someone in the throes of sweaty delirium. She tried not to think of stripping off Sam’s shirt and trousers if he was sick—but the option to expand her imagination was tantalising her. No!
She glanced at the clock. Almost ten. He said he’d drop in after his weekend round.
When she put her feet on the ground her head didn’t hurt. The headache had gone. It had disabled her but now her step was steady as she made her way into the bathroom with an armful of clothes.
By the time she came out, hair piled into a towel, teeth cleaned and mouth washed, she was starting to feel the emptiness in her belly and a hankering for fresh air.
As she opened the door to let the world in, Sam was standing outside with his phone in his hand.
That would be Sam who had seen her frogs and all. Sam who looked ridiculously handsome. Sam who’d carried her into her bed. ‘Oh. Hello. Have you been here long?’
‘Just a few minutes. I knocked and when you didn’t answer I was going to ring you.’
She opened her eyes wide. ‘Do you have my number?’
‘The relief midwife gave it to me when I said I might check on you again.’
Confidentiality clauses and all that obviously didn’t hold much water when it was Sam asking. Nice of her, she thought sourly. But sensible too. ‘I’m much better, thank you.’
She examined him in the bright morning light. Tall. Smiling like he was glad to see her. She shied away from that thought. Not too many shadows under his eyes, considering his onerous midnight duties. ‘How are you after spending the evening with a raving woman?’
‘Starving.’ He gestured to the plastic shopping bag that hung from his hand. ‘Any chance of a table and chairs where I can lay this out?’
‘Food?’ Her stomach grumbled and heat ran up her cheeks. She peeked at him from under her eyelashes to see if he’d heard and saw he was biting his lip. She could see the dimple at the side where he was holding it in.
He’d heard her stomach. Not much mystery left about her for this guy
. ‘Okay. I’m hungry. So in that case you are very welcome.’ Although as she said it she remembered she hadn’t made her bed yet, then mentally shrugged.
He’d changed the blinking sheets. He’d survive an unmade bed. ‘We’ll take it through to the front deck. We can open the doors from the inside.’
Sam followed her and she was very conscious that the collar on her long-sleeved top wasn’t as high as normal and there was some cleavage showing. Maybe she should put on a scarf? Again she reminded herself that he’d seen her in her bra and pants so any more than that was not a concern.
She sighed. He had the advantage of more knowledge of her than she had of him and she didn’t like it. In fact she wasn’t sure how she’d ended up with a guy who knew so much stuff about her and was walking around in her house like he owned it.
Before he followed her out onto the little veranda, he paused. ‘Can I put my milk and cold things in your fridge? I came straight here from the supermarket, but have a few supplies for my flat as well.’
‘Sure. There’s plenty of room in the fridge.’ Ellie winced a little at the hollow emptiness of the food supplies in her kitchen. She needed to shop and restock the cupboards herself.
When he’d done that he followed her to the balcony that overlooked the ocean. She noticed he hesitated at the door.
As he stood there he said quietly, ‘Who built these cottages? The view is incredible.’
She stopped and looked in the direction he was looking, sweeping her gaze over the little cliff top that held the three tiny homes, the expanse of the sea out in front of them with the wheeling gulls and fluffy white clouds, the majesty of the tall, white lighthouse on the opposite ridge, which drew visitors on Sundays for lighthouse tours, its tiny top deck enclosed by a white handrail for the visitors as they examined the internal workings of the light through the windows.
‘The cottages were built for three spinster sisters in the middle of the last century. They were all nurses at the hospital down the hill.’
She laughed. ‘Myra said that the three of us who live here now are modern day reincarnations. Their father ran the lighthouse and when they were in their mid-twenties the eldest came into some money and had the cottages built. There’s only one of them alive now. I visit her sometimes in the nursing home. She’s ninety and sharp as a tack. Just frail and happy to have other people make her meals now.’
A Month to Marry the Midwife Page 7
