‘You let him know other women?’ Marty teased as they climbed into the little vehicle, Marty insisting Fran sit up front so she could see the view so Steve was crowded with the bags in the back.
‘What’s this Sir Stephen thing?’ she asked Marty, who grinned in response while Steve gave her a stern order to just look at the view.
Which was spectacular! They rose first over a fairly large town, then thick rainforest, until the coast appeared, the dark blue ocean spreading out to the horizon, bordering headlands and curves of sandy bays.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Fran said, and both the men agreed, something in their voices telling her it was also very special.
Then they were swooping low towards a small town set beside a golden arc of sand.
‘Wetherby,’ the two men chorused, and again their voices told her it was special.
She knew why Steve had been here, but Marty?
She could find out later, because now they had banked over a large, grim-looking building and were settling down onto a flat mown paddock behind it.
‘The Nunnery!’ Marty announced, waving his hand towards the building. ‘And the garden between it and us is where we poor foster children slaved endlessly.’
‘In between the beatings,’ Steve put in, and both men laughed.
Clambering out wasn’t quite as easy as getting in and by the time they were all out, with the luggage, a tall, plump woman was bustling towards them.
‘Hallie!’ Steve cried, lifting her in his arms and swinging her around.
‘Put me down, I’ve told you not to do that!’ she said, though obviously no one took any notice for now Marty was swinging her around too.
Back on her feet and looking only slightly flustered, she came towards Fran.
‘My dear, I cannot tell you how happy I am that Stephen has finally met the woman of his dreams.’
And with that she enveloped Fran in a warm hug.
‘Now, we’ll ignore those two idiots, they’ll have a lot to catch up on, just come inside and tell me all about yourself.’
She took Fran’s arm and led her through the burgeoning garden to a much-used back door.
‘We practically live in the kitchen,’ she explained, ‘although these days most of the time it’s only me and Pop. Plenty of the children who lived here come back, but the time Marty and Steve were here was special as there were a number of them about the same age, so they really bonded. You’ll meet Izzy later, she’s coming to dinner with Nikki, who was Liane’s daughter.’
The chatter stopped rather abruptly and Hallie studied Fran for a moment.
‘Has Steve spoken to you of Liane?’
Fran nodded.
‘He told me how troubled she was—broken, I think he said—and how he’d always loved her. Then how she’d got back on drugs and died after her daughter was born.’
‘That daughter is our Nikki! Well, Izzy and Mac’s Nikki really but...we like to think of her as a little bit ours.’
Hallie said the name as if, of all the children who’d passed through her hands, Nikki was special to her.
Fran thought back, then remembered Nikki had been a drug-addicted baby and all the care in rearing her that that would have entailed. Izzy would have needed help and no doubt that help would have come from Hallie.
No wonder Nikki was special!
‘And your own family?’ Hallie asked.
Fran smiled.
‘Just a mother and she’s climbing mountains in South America at the moment, although I did manage to catch her in a place where there was network coverage a few days ago and tell her about Steve.’
‘Climbing mountains in South America?’ Hallie echoed, and Fran’s smile grew wider.
‘That’s how I felt when she first announced her plan. My father left us when I was young and Mum did all she could to make sure I got a good education. She worked two jobs and scrimped and saved so I could go to private school because I was interested in science and she felt I’d get better science teachers in a private school.’
She paused, thinking how much more she understood about her mother now—because she was pregnant?
She didn’t know, but as she talked to Hallie about the woman who had always preached restraint, who had written up weekly timetables for study, meals and chores, and to whom good manners were more important than a degree, she began to understand her mother.
‘I think she put so much into my life, to ensure I had a good job, a safe marriage, a happy family, that she did nothing for herself.’
She paused, wondering how to put her mother into words.
‘She was devastated when my first marriage broke down, but when I talked to her about it, told her it was better to be without a man than to be tied to someone who no longer loved me, she not only understood but she saw her life in a different light. She threw in her job and went travelling, mostly in mountainous areas, insisting you see things more clearly in mountain air.’
Hallie laughed.
‘I don’t do mountains but I often climb up onto the roof here—it’s flat and quite safe—to think about things.’
The men came in, obviously in search of the tea she and Hallie had failed to make.
‘Not to worry,’ Marty said. ‘We boys will do it.’
He turned to Fran.
‘You’ll find he’s been totally domesticated so don’t spoil it by waiting on him hand and foot.’
The man they all called Pop came in as they were demolishing a freshly baked sponge cake.
He greeted Fran warmly, then congratulated her.
‘I’ve had some good lads come through here—even count that bloke Marty among them—but Steve’s special so you be good to him.’
‘Or you’ll go down and bash her up?’ Marty teased.
And although Pop smiled, he nodded towards Fran.
‘I’m quite sure Fran knows what I mean.’
It was her turn to nod. It wasn’t anything she could put into words but deep down she knew the words were true. Steve was special.
* * *
After a riotous dinner during which she’d somehow promised Nikki she could be a bridesmaid at her wedding, assured Izzy that of course she’d take care of Steve and had admitted, under Mac’s acute questioning that, yes, she was pregnant, she and Steve were able to escape upstairs.
‘Not to my old bedroom,’ he explained to her as he led her along a corridor. ‘This is a little flat that Pop made for Izzy when she and Nikki came home from Sydney. They use it for visitors now those two are living with Mac in the old doctor’s house.’
He led her into the tiny living room, closed the door, and put his arms around her.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, running his fingers through her hair and massaging her shoulders. ‘It’s been a big day and they’re all mad, that lot.’
But Fran heard the love he felt for every one of them.
‘Very okay,’ she told him, nestling closer.
He showed her the main bedroom and bathroom, then helpfully stripped off her clothes, all the while telling her of his love, so in the end they left the shower until later, needing only to be together in the best possible way.
It wasn’t until they were finally in bed that she was able to repeat the question she’d asked earlier.
‘Why Sir Stephen?’
He laughed and pulled her close, so her head rested on his shoulder.
‘I had the two grandparents as you know, one from each side of the family. I imagine, as they lived next door to each other and both of them had housekeepers and gardeners, gossip travelled fairly swiftly between the two houses. So, my grandmother would send me a cricket set at the beginning of summer, and within days my grandfather would send a better one. I think we eventually had enough sets to kit out an e
ntire team.’
‘Did they compete at birthdays and Christmas as well?’ Fran asked, smiling at the thought of the orphan boy receiving all these gifts.
‘Of course—stupendous gifts just kept arriving, so many I could share them around all the kids.’
‘Ah,’ Fran murmured, ‘hence Sir Stephen—the noble knight dispensing gifts!’
Steve chuckled and held her closer, because for some reason, now he was back in the place that had become his true home, she felt more truly his.
* * *
‘Want a run?’ he asked when she opened bleary eyes next morning. ‘Please,’ he added, ‘it’s a special run.’
She was out of bed within minutes, showering and pulling on a T-shirt and shorts then light sneakers and joining him as he led the way out of the still sleeping house.
He pointed out the hospital on the way down towards the beach, and the old colonial house where Izzy and Mac lived with Nikki, then they were on the coastal path.
‘We’ve all run it at different times—in fact, Izzy met Mac on it—but you must admit it’s special.’
He looked at the woman he loved, wanting her to see the beauty of the place he loved.
‘Very special,’ she assured him, and it took all his strength of character not to kiss her there and then, because he knew he’d probably have followed the kiss by dragging her into the sand dunes.
So they ran, slowly, to take in the beauty of the craggy headlands and the curving bays, the wind-bent casuarinas and crashing waves that broke against the cliffs.
They stopped at a fresh water tap, there to serve people walking the coastal path, which stretched for miles along this part of the coast.
They drank freely then stood up, looking out at the little curve of golden sand, the surf rolling in gently, the smell of the ocean drawn deep into their lungs.
Side by side in this beautiful place, arms around each other’s waists, Steve could only think that this must be perfection.
‘I love you, Francesca Hawthorne,’ Steve said, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips to drop a kiss into her palm then close her fingers around it.
‘And I you,’ she said, then gave him a kiss to hold in his palm.
Which, Steve decided as they came back into Wetherby, must have made them both look quite demented, striding along, each with one hand closed firmly on a kiss...
EPILOGUE
IT WAS LATE summer when the family gathered for the wedding, a bright, cool day with a light breeze whipping up a few cheeky wavelets on the harbour.
Fran’s mother had arrived two days earlier, and it seemed to Fran they’d hardly stopped talking since she’d landed at the airport. They’d talked of her mother’s marriage and Fran’s childhood, remembering, laughing and sometimes crying.
With her mother’s help, Fran slid into the light summer dress she’d chosen for her wedding. Cream, with a scattering of bright red flowers, not hibiscus but close enough to have reminded her of the island.
‘Do you like it?’ she asked, arms held out as she twirled in front of her mother, the soft silk of the material swirling from a band beneath her bust.
‘Love it,’ her mother said. ‘And so will Steve when he sees that neckline!’
Immediately wary, Fran lifted her hands to cover the hint of depth between her breasts, and her mother laughed.
‘It’s wonderful,’ she assured Fran. ‘I was only teasing you. Now, you’re sure about this?’
Fran looked into her mother’s eyes.
‘More sure than I’ve ever been of anything in my life. I love him, Mum, more than I had ever imagined loving anyone.’
‘And Nigel?’
Fran grinned. ‘Who’s Nigel?’
And they both laughed, but the conversation brought them to the subject of love.
‘We’ve both loved badly,’ her mother said softly, ‘but seeing you with Steve I know how right this marriage is. Don’t ever be afraid to give freely of your love. I didn’t know that when I married. I was brought up to not show emotion and I probably taught you that as well, but love is so precious you have to nurture it so it flourishes in every corner of your life for ever.’
A light tap at the door, and as her mother hurried to open it, Fran looked out over the harbour, sparkling in the sunshine, the ferries like toy boats a child might play with in the bath.
She patted her stomach then rested her hand on the bulge, thinking of this child in the bath with boats.
Or on a boat going over to the Zoo, perhaps growing up to be a doctor...
Or not, it didn’t matter, for not only was this the child she’d never thought to have, but it was Steve’s child and doubly precious for that!
Nikki arrived, looking stunning in red, her dress the same design as Fran’s and, in Nikki’s opinion, very grown-up!
‘Oh, you look fabulous!’ she said, and the expression on her face told Fran she meant it.
‘And so do you,’ Fran told her, ‘but what’s the box?’
‘Oh, I forgot! Steve said to give it to you.’
She handed Fran a clear plastic box. Nestled inside it was a brilliant red hibiscus.
Opening the box, Fran saw the note.
‘Which ear?’ Steve had written, and Fran laughed. She lifted the flower, and going to the mirror settled it behind her left ear.
‘Definitely taken,’ she said, smiling at her mother and Nikki, who both shook their heads at the strange wedding headdress.
‘It’s time,’ her mother said. ‘You really want to do this?’
Fran could only smile, but she kissed her mother and gave her a tight hug, blinking back tears as her mother took her hand to lead her and Nikki down the stairs and out through the garden to a gazebo at the edge of the property, where, with friends and family around them, and the harbour sparkling behind them, they promised to love and honour each other for the rest of their lives.
The guests drifted back to the terrace where drinks and food was being served,
But Steve held Fran’s hand and looked out over the beautiful view.
‘I love you, Francesca Louise Ransome,’ he said softly, ‘with all my heart and mind and body.’
Then he drew her close—or as close as her belly allowed—and kissed her, ignoring the wolf whistles from his family on the terrace behind them.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Meredith Webber:
ENGAGED TO THE DOCTOR SHEIKH
A FOREVER FAMILY FOR THE ARMY DOC
A SHEIKH TO CAPTURE HER HEART
THE MAN SHE COULD NEVER FORGET
All available now!
Keep reading for an excerpt from STOLEN KISSES WITH HER BOSS by Susan Carlisle.
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Stolen Kisses with Her Boss
by Susan Carlisle
CHAPTER ONE
CYNTHIA MARCUM TAPPED the mouse of her laptop. Her emails came into view. Scanning them, she paused when she saw one from Dr. Sean Donavon. Her body tingled in anticipation. Why would he be emailing her? Her interactions had always been with his staff. Had she done something wrong?
She had been doing Dr. Donavon’s transcription for just over a month now. He was an otolaryngologist and one of five surgeons she typed dictation for in the metropolitan Birmingham, Alabama area. The pay was so good she’d added him to her client list despite already having a full load. She could use the money. Her brothers, Mark and Rick, were always in need of something costing at least a hundred dollars.
The money wasn’t the only thing she enjoyed about working for the mystery doctor. She loved the sound of his voice. It drew her in. She always saved his tapes for last. His deep resonating tone was smooth and silky like warm chocolate. It brought to mind a cool night with rain tapping against a tin roof and him pulling her close.
Her imagination worked overtime where Dr. Donavon was concerned. She couldn’t get enough of listening to him, often playing his tapes back more than once. Even all the medical terms sounded erotic when he uttered them.
She often wondered if he looked like he sounded. All dark and sexy.
A humph escaped her. Yeah, more like short and bald. That had happened one time when she had met a radio DJ. Based on his voice she’d built him up into this young, buff guy who every woman would want. Unfortunately, he turned out to be a short, middle-aged man with a gray ponytail. To say she had been disappointed was an understatement.
Listening to Dr. Donavon had become her romantic outlet. Since she currently had no one special in her life, hearing his voice had filled that void. She’d been in a relationship when her parents died. Wedding bells with Dave hadn’t seemed too far off, then life had happened. Her parents’ estate issues, the needs of her brothers and everything in between had worked against their relationship.
A Miracle for the Baby Doctor Page 15
