Healed by the Midwife's Kiss

by Fiona McArthur

  ‘As long as he stays out of the bath, I’m fine,’ Sara said with unexpected humour considering the glare at the door and the contraction that had begun to swell and widen her eyes.

  Trina turned to hide her grin and motioned for Finn to enter the room. She liked the way he always waited for permission. Though she might have mentioned it a few times and she had no doubt her eyes betrayed her amusement at his docility. No, not docility—respect. Her amusement faded. As he should.

  Finn said a brief thanks to Sara and her husband and settled back into the corner on the porcelain throne, making himself as inconspicuous as a six foot tank could be. Once he was seated Trina tried to forget about him.

  She suspected by the way Sara was breathing out deeply and slowly that she’d felt the urge to bear down. Second stage. Time to up the monitoring. When the final louder breath had been released Sara lay back with her eyes closed.

  Trina murmured, ‘Is baby moving down and through, Sara?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can I listen to the heartbeat between those outward breaths?’

  ‘Yes.’ Bare minimum. She had more important things to concentrate on than answering questions and Trina understood that.

  Sara arched her belly up until it broke the surface of the bath water and Trina leaned forward and slid the Doppler low on Sara’s belly. The sound of a happy clopping heartbeat filled the room. With her eyes closed, Sara smiled.

  After a minute Trina moved the Doppler away and Sara sank back below the water, causing ripples to splash the edge of the bath. She didn’t open her eyes when another minute passed and her heavy outward sighs started again.

  It took fifteen minutes, and five cycles of breathing, listening, smiling and sinking below the surface of the water and then they could see the baby’s head below the surface.

  Sara’s breathing didn’t change, nobody spoke. Below, in the water, the small shoulders appeared. Trina hovered, but Sara reached down, waiting, as an expelled breath larger than the rest released a flurry of movement. The movement heralded the rest of the baby’s body had been born. Sara clasped her baby firmly between her hands below the water level and lifted her smoothly to the surface to rest on her belly. The little face rose above the water, blue and gaping, and then the baby’s eyes opened and she began to breathe in as the air hit her face.

  Everyone else breathed out. The father photographing constantly and the glance the couple shared between clicks made tears sting Trina’s eyes. So beautiful.

  * * *

  The birth left Finn sitting thoughtfully at her desk as he replayed the scene.

  Finally, he said, ‘That was amazing. The mum was so in control, lifting the baby after birth out of the water like that.’ He quirked one brow at her. ‘How could you stop yourself reaching in to do it for her?’

  Trina smiled. ‘If she’d hesitated or if she’d needed me to, I would have. But Sara had it covered. That’s her second water birth so she knew what she wanted and what would happen.’

  He rolled a pen between his fingers thoughtfully. ‘I have to admit to scepticism. Why add water to the list of things that could go wrong for a baby at birth?’ He tapped the pen on the desk. ‘I could see Mum looked super-relaxed—baby just appeared with the breathing, not even pushing, and slowly birthed. Hands off. A very relaxed baby though a little bluer than normal in the first few minutes.’

  That was true, Trina thought. ‘We find the colour can take a minute or two longer to pink up, mainly because the babies may not cry.’

  She shrugged. ‘People need to remember no analgesia was needed for Mum because of the thirty-seven-degree heat and relaxation of the bath, so babies aren’t affected by drugs for the next twenty-four hours like some are. That helps breastfeeding and bonding. She didn’t have an epidural so no drip or urinary catheter either.’ And no stitches. Trina always felt relieved when that happened—and it was usually when a mother advanced second stage at her own pace. Something they prided themselves on at Lighthouse Bay—but then they had all the well mums and babies to start with.

  It had been a beautiful birth and Trina still glowed from the experience, even after all the tidying up and paperwork had been done.

  She glanced at the clock. Finn would go soon. Lunchtime seemed to fly when he came to talk about the births and she could feel their rapport and their friendship, the ease she fell into with their conversations, had all grown this week with his shifts.

  Finn stroked the cover of the book Trina had lent him to read on water birth. ‘I’m intrigued how you managed to sell the idea here to the board of directors. I know water birth was vetoed at my last hospital.’

  It had been easier than expected. One of the board member’s daughter had had a water birth at another hospital. But they’d covered their bases. ‘Our statistics are meticulous. Ellie has always been firm on keeping good records and it shows we have excellent outcomes on land and water birth. I’m doing the same.’ She thought about how smoothly their transition to a midwife-led unit had been in the end. ‘Of course it helped with Sam as back-up. Ellie’s husband has such high standing in the area now. The local authorities consider us backed by experts even though Sam’s not technically here. So water birth with the midwives at Mum’s request is the norm here and proved to be very safe. Just remember we start with well mums and well babies.’

  ‘Good job. Everyone.’ He stood up. Looking down at her with that crooked smile that seemed to make everything shine so bright it fuddled her brain. ‘Well, you’ve converted me. Which is lucky as tonight is my all-night on-call.’

  He gathered up his lunch wrap from the kiosk meal he’d bought. ‘I’d better get back to the surgery; my afternoon patients will start to arrive at two. Then my first night without Piper for a year.’

  She knew plenty of mums who would love to have a night where their babies slept overnight with someone else. ‘How does that make you feel?’

  He shrugged. Apparently not overjoyed. ‘Very strange, I have to admit. I think I’m going to be lonely. Don’t suppose you’d like to join me?’

  ‘If you get forlorn give me a call.’ As soon as she said it Trina began to blush. What on earth had got into her? Practically throwing herself at the man at the first opportunity. But she’d been thinking he’d looked sad when he’d said it.

  She soldiered on. ‘What I meant was, unlike Piper, I can go home if you get called out.’ That sounded even worse.

  His blue eyes sparkled. Mischievously. Suddenly he looked less like an assured paediatrician and more like a little boy offered a treat. ‘Now that’s an offer I’d like to take you up on. We could get takeaway.’

  ‘Now I feel like I’ve invited myself.’

  He laughed. ‘Thank goodness. We could both die of old age before I had the nerve to ask you properly and I’ve been wanting to since Marni agreed to have Piper overnight.’

  He flashed her a smile. ‘It’s a date. You can’t back out now. I’ll see you at mine at six p.m.’

  She couldn’t have him cooking for her after work. ‘I finish at five. So why don’t you come to my house? I can make us dinner or order in and your mobile will go off anywhere. Do on-call from there.’

  ‘If that’s okay, then great. I’ll appear at six.’ He waved and smiled and...left.

  Good grief. He’d been wanting to ask her. Then reason marched in. Wanted what? What could happen if she wasn’t careful? It was a small town and she needed her reputation and her just healing, skin-grafted heart needed protection. Was she getting too close to this guy—a guy with a cloud of unresolved questions that even he didn’t know the answers to?

  Well, yes. She was getting too close.

  Did it feel right?

  Um, yes. So why couldn’t she spend the evening, or the night if that came up, with a man she was very, very attracted to?

  Because he was married. His wife was missing, alive or
dead, he was still married—and she didn’t sleep with married men.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Finn

  FINN KNOCKED ON Catrina’s solid timber door and his heart thumped almost as loudly as his knuckles on the wood. He couldn’t believe he was back in the game. Taking risks. Making a play. With his twelve-month-old daughter asleep at a babysitter’s and his wife still missing.

  He wasn’t a villain to do this. He was on-call. Calling on Catrina beat the heck out of sitting at home alone, waiting for his mobile phone to ring for work. And Catrina made his world a more rounded place. A warm and wonderful place.

  Different to the walls he normally pulled around himself and Piper. Guilt from the past had become less cloying over the last few weeks, the cloud still there but it had gone from dense and choking to thin and drifting away like ocean mist. Like a new day awakening. Thanks to Catrina.

  The door opened and she stood there, with that gorgeous smile of hers that lifted his heart and made him want to reach forward and, quite naturally, kiss her. Which, to the surprise of both of them, he did. As if he’d done it every time she opened the door to him—when in fact it hadn’t happened before—and, despite the widening of her eyes in surprise, she kissed him back. Ah, so good.

  So he moved closer and savoured that her mouth melded soft and tentative against his. Luscious and sweet and...

  He stepped right in, pulled the door shut behind him, locking the world away from them, because he needed her in his arms, hidden from prying eyes.

  She didn’t push him away—far from it, her hands crept up to his neck and encircled him as she leaned into his chest. The kiss deepening into a question from him, an answering need from her that made his heart pound again and he tightened his arms even more around her. Their lips pressed, tongues tangled, hands gripping each other until his head swam with the scent and the taste of her. Time passed but, as in all things, slowly reality returned.

  He lifted her briefly off her feet and spun her, suddenly exuberant from all the promise in that kiss, then put her down as their mouths broke apart. Both of them were flushed and laughing. He raised his fingers to draw her hold from his neck and kissed the backs of them. ‘Such beautiful hands.’ He kissed them again.

  In turn, she created some sensible space in the heat between them and turned away.

  But not before he saw the glow in her eyes that he had no doubt was reflected in his. They could take their time. The first barrier had passed—they’d kissed, and what a kiss. The first since heartache and they’d both survived. Not just survived—they’d thrived! Finn felt like a drooping plant, desperate for water, and he’d just had the first sip. You could tell a lot from a first kiss, and Catrina had blown his socks off.

  Finn slowed to watch her cross the room, mostly because she fascinated him—she walked, brisk and swinging, out through the open door of the veranda overlooking the sea, the backdrop of sapphire blue a perfect foil for her dark hair as distance widened between them.

  He tried hard not to look at the bed in the corner of the big room as he passed but his quick glance imprinted cushions and the floral quilt they’d bought on Sunday which she said she’d needed to brighten the place. He pulled his eyes away but he could feel the tightening in his groin he couldn’t help and imagined carrying Catrina to that corner.

  ‘Come on,’ she called from the little covered porch and he quickened his step. Almost guilty now his body had leapt ahead after one kiss but the cheeky smile she’d flung over her shoulder at him eased that dilemma. She was thinking about the bed too. But not today. He needed to make sure she knew it all. Before he tarnished something beautiful and new with ghosts from the past.

  He’d never seen her so bubbly—as if she were glowing from the inside—and he watched her, a little dazed, that he’d done this to her. Lit her up. With a kiss as if she were a sleeping princess. But he was no prince. And it was a long time since he’d lit anyone up like this—just Clancy in the beginning—and look how that ended. He pushed that thought away.

  She’d set the table with bright place mats and put out salad and pasta and cheese. Orange juice in a pitcher stood beside glasses and the sunlight bathed it all in golden lights and reflections as the day drew to a jewelled close above the sea.

  Like a moth to the light, he closed in on her where she’d paused against the rail overlooking the sea. Her silhouette was willowy yet curved in all the right places, her dark hair, sun-kissed in streaks, blowing in the ocean breeze. He came up behind her and put his hands on the rail each side, capturing her. Leant ever so lightly against her curved back, the length of his body warming against her softness, feeling the give against his thighs.

  Then he leant down and kissed the soft pearly skin under her ear and she shivered beneath him; her breath caught as she pushed back, into him. His hands left the rail and encircled her hips from behind, spreading low across her stomach and pelvis. ‘You’re like a sea sprite up here.’ His voice came out low and deeper than normal. ‘A siren high on her vantage point overlooking the sea.’

  She turned her head and, with a slow wicked smile, tilted her face to look at him. ‘Does that make you a pirate?’

  He lifted his brows. ‘I could be?’

  ‘Not today, me hearty,’ she said and pushed him back more firmly with her bottom to suggest he give her space and he let his hands slide down the outer curve of her thighs, savouring the feminine shape of her, and then away.

  ‘Right then,’ he said and stepped back. ‘Do your hostess thing, sea sprite.’

  She spun and pulled out a chair at the table. ‘Yes, you should eat in case you get called away. It’s Thursday and I know there’s a buck’s party on tonight before the wedding on Saturday. You might be needed if things get silly.’

  She indicated the food in bowls. ‘Start now, please. Don’t wait for me.’ She avoided his eyes and he saw the exuberance had passed. There was no rush and this wasn’t just about him—it was about this brave, beautiful widow finding her way to exposing her heart again. He reminded himself he knew how that felt though his circumstances were far different. He wanted to do this right. Right for Catrina. Right for him. And right for Piper. He needed to remember Piper. And try not to forget he had Clancy in the wings.

  Though how could he do this right with a missing wife God knew where and this woman bruised from her own past? He forced a smile to his mouth. ‘The pasta looks amazing.’

  He saw the relief as he changed the subject and knew he’d been right to give her space.

  She gestured vaguely to the hedge that separated her house from the one next door. ‘Herbs make the difference. We share a herb garden. Myra does the tending and Ellie and I share the eating.’

  She smiled with her mouth but not her eyes and he wondered what she was thinking while she was talking trivia about herb gardens. Had he been too full-on? Yes, he had—they both had—but that had been some kiss. Like a steam train carrying them both along at great speed and only just finding the brakes.

  ‘But it works for us.’

  What works for us? Then he realised she was still talking about the herb garden. He had it bad. Just wasn’t so sure about her. He stuffed some pasta in his mouth. A taste explosion rioted there and he groaned in delight. And she could cook. His gaze strayed to her.

  Time. It all takes time, he reassured himself. Took another scrumptious bite and prayed the phone wouldn’t ring at least until he finished his food. Preferably not at all.

  She poured him some juice, then sat opposite him, her hair falling to hide her face, but something about the hesitant way she tilted her face as if she were weighing her words before she spoke. He swallowed more divine food and slowed down. Then asked, ‘Question?’

  ‘I’m wondering if it’s too early to ask you about your mother. You said something on Monday that’s been driving me a little wild with curiosity.’

  His head
came up. More because the idea of her being driven a little wild stirred his interest rather than any concern about her prying into his past. ‘A little wild, eh?’ He speared a pasta curl.

  She looked at him and shook her head. ‘You’re a dark horse, Dr Foley. One bit of encouragement and I can see where that leads you.’

  He grinned at her. Spread his fork hand innocently. ‘I’m just happy.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m happy too. So, now that I’ve made you happy, can I ask you about your mother?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘What did you mean she was a medium? It’s the last thing I expected.’

  He’d come to terms with it years ago. Funny how women harped on about it. His sister. And Clancy. Both had hated it. Funny he hadn’t thought Catrina would be like that. He’d always thought of his mum’s beliefs like a choice. Believe in angels or not. Be a vegetarian or not. Take up ballroom dancing or tarot cards.

  ‘What’s to expect? She was a psychologist then became fascinated by the cards and became a medium. I loved her. My sister couldn’t have been more horrified if my mother had taken six lovers instead of a sudden attraction to talking to the angels.’

  Catrina leaned forward earnestly. ‘It doesn’t repel me. I’m not sure what fascinates me about it. It’s just different. That’s all. And a bit out there for a paediatrician to have a medium in his family.’

  He’d heard that before. ‘That’s what my sister said. But it made Mum happy and when she went she went with peace. She died not long after I fell for Clancy.’ He shrugged but heard the grief shadowed in his voice. Tried to lighten the tone. ‘She said that Clancy had sadness wrapped around her like a cloak and she worried about me.’

  Catrina opened her eyes wide.

  He sighed. ‘I didn’t listen.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Trina

  TRINA GLANCED OVER the rail to the wide ocean in front of them. Sought the point where the ocean met the sky and sighed too. Of all the things she wanted to ask Finn, she wasn’t sure why she’d chosen to ask about his mother. And now that she knew she’d never meet her it made her sad. Another mother gone. It had been a ridiculous question.