The Midwife's Baby

by Fiona McArthur

  Max felt as if his heart was breaking for her courage. ‘My poor darling.’

  He didn’t know how she’d stayed as sane and strong as she had with such a man. Max ached to come across Sol in some dark alley some time and make amends for Georgia.

  He had trouble getting the words out past his regret that he hadn’t known her then. ‘Not all men are like that.’

  She shook her head as if to say that wasn’t her concern. ‘I’m scared for you, Max.’

  How could she worry about him at a time like this? ‘Don’t be, because I swear to you now, that man will never hurt you again. If he tries, he will have me to deal with.’

  He wanted to tell her that he truly loved her with all his heart and soul, but to pressure her now with that would be selfish. He needed to step back and lay more groundwork before he went there.

  Instead he said, ‘Let’s still go away for the weekend. Forget all this and just relax together with Elsa.’

  ‘Could we?’ He saw the way she looked up eagerly.

  He nodded. ‘We could pack and be out of here by ten, if you still want to.’

  Her eyes met his. ‘I’d like that.’

  Down the hallway the baby cried and the chance of more discussion was lost as she slipped from his bed. She pulled on his robe and he knew she would go to her room with Elsa and not return. He knew from the way she didn’t even look back as she left.

  He knew what he was fighting for and he was even more determined. He would woo her as she deserved.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THEY drove to the mountains and the spectacular scenery lifted Georgia’s spirits in a way she couldn’t believe, especially now that there was even more to think about.

  It seemed Max was going to make it easy for her by not discussing last night. Her body glowed every time she thought of those stolen hours—but that’s what they had been. Stolen and not to be repeated.

  Max had no idea what they were up against. Their time together had been an amazing escape from the reality and despair that just hearing Sol’s name had again left her with.

  Thankfully, it seemed that Max would bide his time and perhaps, if a miracle occurred, maybe some time in the future they could travel that road.

  At least Max had helped her understand that when someone cared for you, making love was just that—making love. Love in a way both parties felt more together—not less!

  But though their intimate time had strengthened her acceptance of how much she loved Max, it had also given her more reason to leave.

  Max desired her, there was no doubt about that, but this morning’s relaxed dismissal of their night together had made her wonder if he had the capacity to love or just make love.

  Maybe it was better if Max didn’t love her. Safer for everyone.

  They stopped many times along the way north to Queensland. The all-terrain vehicle crawled along hardly used bush trails, showed them great vistas over rainforests and let them enjoy escarpments decked with eagles and graced with tumbling waterfalls that smashed down onto boulders far below.

  Lunch was another picnic packed by Mrs White, which they had beside a cold mountain stream, and afternoon tea saw them back on the coast and an hour and a half east of their destination.

  They drove through the Lamington National Park three thousand feet up to the rainforest retreat and Max was greeted like a long-lost friend.

  The owners, Paddy and Morgan, had even arranged for their daughter, Trish, to sit with Elsa in the room later that evening while Max and Georgia enjoyed their dinner.

  The suite Max had secured, instead of the two single rooms she’d expected, made her pause at the door, and Max’s hand rested on the small of her back as he waited for her to say something.

  They could see over the canopy of trees from the window but it was the two big canopied beds that dominated her vision.

  ‘The suite is lovely, but it seems strange they didn’t have two single rooms.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for singles, Georgia. We’re a family, even though you and I may not sleep together tonight.’ Max met her eyes unswervingly. ‘I thought you’d be more secure if I was right here with you and Elsa.’

  When she didn’t answer he went on. ‘Despite last night, you can trust me. As you can see, we have two doubles and there’s a cot for Elsa.’

  He shrugged and changed tack. ‘Actually, I did it for myself. The nightmares have been a problem and tonight I’ll have you to protect me.’

  Georgia glared at him. She wouldn’t make a fuss. It would be ridiculous after what had passed between them, but she’d thought he’d understood. ‘I hope Elsa keeps you awake all night.’

  He shrugged. ‘She’s done that before.’

  This wasn’t happening. Last night had been a mistake that she couldn’t regret but had no plans to repeat. ‘Any designs you have on me will not come to fruition, Max.’

  ‘I’ll have you know that I am saving myself.’ Max averted his face primly.

  As if. ‘You’re not a virgin any more, Max.’ Georgia couldn’t help the reluctant grin he’d dragged from her, despite her best efforts to remain cross.

  ‘That was only my body,’ he said solemnly.

  ‘You…are…mad.’

  ‘I’m crazy with it all right,’ he said, and this time no humour lit his face. She was a fool. He really had only thought of her, but before she could apologise for doubting him, Elsa stirred.

  ‘I’ll see you down in the lobby where the maps are displayed,’ he said, and she filled the silence with movement as Max slipped out the door.

  He’d told her to trust him and she’d never had cause to disbelieve him. That was the baggage Sol had left her with, and she wasn’t going to start not trusting Max.

  Elsa settled quickly after her feed, and Trish arrived with her own dinner on a plate.

  After a brief discussion over what to do if Elsa woke up, Georgia completed her make-up and brushed her hair again. Strangely nervous, she went to meet Max downstairs.

  As she came down the stairs the way his gaze travelled over her made her glad that she had spent the extra few minutes on her appearance and her nerves dissipated like smoke from the chimney.

  This was Max. Tall, gorgeous Max, with his incredible body and amazing hands and amazing mouth that just thinking about sent waves of colour to her cheeks. Max, her refuge, her husband, even if it was only for a year, and the man who was looking at her as if she were the one person he’d ever wait for.

  Max smiled that wonderful smile of his and held out his hand, and when she put her fingers in his she realised how right it had been to get away.

  ‘Welcome to our first real date,’ he said as the waiter showed them through the doors to a private table in a bay-windowed alcove.

  She smiled. After all they’d been through. ‘For first-timers we’ve had our moments of interest together,’ she said, and the thought of last night tingled her skin in a pink glow.

  ‘That’s no excuse not to catch up on the stuff we missed out on,’ Max said, and she saw the flutes of champagne and laughed.

  A long-stemmed red rose lay across her setting and she glanced up at the waiter with a smile. ‘Does everyone get a rose when they come here?’

  ‘Only those on their first date,’ the waiter said, and smiled. The man pulled out her chair and Georgia sat and looked around at the restaurant as Max chose the wine for the meal.

  The room was long, with several bay windows overlooking the valley below that disappeared in the darkening twilight.

  A log fire crackled in a central fireplace and added pleasant warmth without overheating the room. Her throat felt warm but she knew the heat was from something else.

  Exposed wooden beams crossed the ceiling with relics from the roaring days of the pioneers, but there was nothing rough about the service or the fine china.

  The waiter left after ensuring they were happy, and Max raised his glass to hers in a toast. ‘To a tranquil weekend.’

  She’d drink
to that. ‘Utopia.’ They clinked the delicate crystal and she sighed blissfully. ‘What a gorgeous place. You’ve obviously been here before.’

  Max glanced around and his face softened. ‘My aunt loved this restaurant. I used to come here at least once during my holidays with her.’

  There was a note in his voice she’d never heard before. ‘Tell me about your childhood and parents.’

  He put his glass down and grimaced. ‘Now, that’s a boring story.’

  She frowned at him and he held up his hand. ‘But I did say I’d answer questions.’

  He smiled whimsically. ‘My father was a worthy man, an excellent surgeon with very little sense of humour, who retired one month before he died of a heart attack.’

  Georgia stretched her hand across the table and touched his in sympathy where his fingers lay against the tablecloth. He looked at her briefly and then looked away.

  ‘My mother now lives in America with her new husband and apparently is reasonably happy.’

  It sounded emotionless and she couldn’t help being disappointed by his distance.

  ‘Try a little harder, Max,’ she said. Though what did she expect when she was the one creating distance all the time?

  He sighed laboriously and then went on. ‘My parents had very little in common with each other, or me, but led a very civilised life together. My brother and I spent a lot of years at boarding school.

  ‘Fortunately, I spent a lot of my holidays with my mother’s sister, who owned the house in Byron, while Paul stayed home and became even more worthy.’

  His face softened and his beautiful mouth curved. ‘My Aunt Beatrice I could talk about for hours.’

  ‘Please, do,’ she said softly, aching for the boy who had obviously been lost in boarding school and at a family that hadn’t known how to love.

  Maybe that was why he had chosen Tayla and had such low expectations of marriage.

  ‘Beatrice was a widow. Her husband died early in their marriage, which was very considerate of him. I’m sure she was happier doing as she liked. She was an Amazon of a woman who adored bright colours with the black she said she wore for mourning.’

  He grinned at the memories. ‘She could put colours together. Black and gold stripes, black and emerald spots, black and hot pink, sometimes all of them at once, and always adorned with lots of beads.’

  He shook his head. ‘She’d have sunflowers growing in her garden and they were all over the house in vases. She’d sing the blues in this gravelly voice that would raise gooseflesh on my arms.’

  He glanced around the room as if seeing memories from the past. ‘She loved to sculpt and paint and you’ve seen all the luminous stars she glued onto the ceilings in the house at Byron. She loved the stars.’

  ‘Beatrice sounds wonderful.’ But best of all was the affection she could see for his aunt on Max’s face. He’d loved his aunt. There was hope yet.

  ‘I adored her. She could be incredibly selfish but that appealed to me too—so much more interesting than worthy. She listened to me and told me she loved my company, when my parents couldn’t wait to send me back to school.’

  His face became expressionless. ‘She nursed me when I was sick in my late teens and made me see how much I had to live for.’

  She didn’t like the sound of that illness. ‘In what way were you sick, Max?’

  ‘Hodgkin’s disease. I had it for two years and stayed in Byron with her. She drove me to Brisbane for treatment.’

  Georgia knew Hodgkin’s could kill and that it struck down adolescents and young adults, more often young men. ‘You were one of the lucky ones, then?’

  ‘They say I’m cured.’ He nodded but there was the sadness behind his eyes she’d seen before. Suddenly she realised why he’d never seemed to want children—the radiotherapy would make that unlikely. She didn’t comment because he didn’t, though her heart ached for him. But it all began to make sense.

  ‘How did your aunt die?’

  ‘Beatrice? In her sleep. Peacefully. After a big dinner party one night five years ago. She loved company and food—the higher in cholesterol the better.’

  He glanced down at the béchamel sauce on his steak and smiled wryly. ‘Enough about me. Try to enjoy your meal without my sob story to put you off.’

  Conversation turned desultory and time passed.

  With dessert Max had questions of his own. She could tell he was happy to not talk about himself any more. ‘So, did you have a perfect childhood?’

  She shrugged, reluctant to lose the mood of warm companionship. ‘My parents were very much in love, and instilled in me that love is worth waiting for. But they died when I was young and an only child.’

  ‘Who brought you up?’

  ‘Harry. Tayla’s mother was very like Tayla. She wasn’t a warm woman and Tayla resented my presence in her family.

  ‘Harry tried to make up for it because he is a kind and decent man, but that only made Tayla worse. Harry’s always been able to see Tayla’s faults and he protected me to some extent. I tried not to be too much of a problem.

  ‘Tayla’s mother died when I was eighteen and Harry and Tayla are my only relatives, except for my darling Elsa.’

  His hand came across the table and squeezed hers for a moment where she held the glass. ‘And your darling husband, Max.’

  ‘That’s true.’ She smiled at him and then glanced at the grandfather clock against the wall. ‘That was a wonderful dinner. Thank you, Max.’

  Max looked at the clock, too. ‘It’s still early. Let’s take a stroll before we go up. There’s a night walk to the glow-worm forest that only takes about half an hour each way. You could check on Elsa first and then join me.’

  ‘Glow-worms?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, and his voice dropped low and portentous, like a 1950s horror film. ‘The larvae of the fungus gnat.’

  She burst out laughing. ‘Imagine having that pearl of information at your fingertips.’

  ‘You have no idea what information I have.’ Max steepled his hands. ‘Hurry and you will learn more.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She saluted and turned for the stairs.

  She chuckled all the way up to the room. If it was fine with Morgan’s daughter, seeking glow-worms sounded like a lovely way to end the evening.

  Max watched her walk away. The curve of her hips, the column of her neck under her swinging hair. So close and yet so far.

  He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. He’d just have to make sure he didn’t touch her because there was no doubt they had ignition problems he couldn’t be sure he could control.

  She was back within minutes, pulling her woollen wrap around her shoulders. ‘Elsa hasn’t stirred and Trish is halfway through a movie she wants to see the end. So we are free for an hour. Show me the worms.’

  ‘I love it when you talk dirty to me,’ he said with a deadpan face.

  ‘I’m a very earthy woman.’ she quipped back, and they smiled at each other.

  It was blissful to feel so relaxed and carefree. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way and it was all due to a fabulous dinner, a place no one could find them, and Max and his care.

  She followed him out past the tennis courts and the light of the moon reflected off the beaten dirt path in patches to illuminate their way.

  Lush foliage closed in on the path but the moon made the leaves silvery and unthreatening. Somewhere she could hear water as it tinkled over rocks, and nocturnal animals scurried away from the intruders who had interrupted their night’s business.

  ‘So where are we going?’ Georgia stumbled over a tree root that had bulged into the path and Max caught her wrist to steady her. His fingers sent warm trails up her arm and she felt cocooned in an aura of protection she didn’t want to push away.

  ‘Glow-Worm Gully is along this path called the Wishing Tree Track.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘You’ll just have to hang onto me.’

  ‘How fortunate you know where you’re goi
ng.’ She glanced up at him.

  ‘Isn’t it? This was my favourite treat when Beatrice stayed here, although she complained all the way down and all the way back. I can remember much trivia from those times so watch out or I may inflict it on you.’

  Georgia stumbled again. ‘Don’t normal people carry a torch?’

  ‘Sorry.’ Max slowed his pace. ‘Yes, and I have one, but if I shine it on a glow-worm, it won’t turn its light back on for fifteen minutes.’

  ‘So we stumble along in the pitch black.’

  He sighed loudly. ‘It is not pitch black. It’s called becoming accustomed to the dark.’

  ‘Sheesh. It’s like school again.’ She could feel his smile even though she couldn’t see it, which made the smile widen on her own face. ‘So tell me about glow-worms. What is a fungus gnat?’

  ‘A fungus gnat is a bit like a mosquito—hence the gnat part—and the larvae it lays are encased in bioluminescent cases that attract insects onto the sticky threads hanging below.’

  ‘And if I was to ask the definition of bioluminescent?’

  ‘It means luminous from chemical byproducts produced by the larvae. The blue-green glow from the larvae’s taillight attracts the larvae’s food.’

  ‘So excretion? Poo light?’

  ‘You are such a downer.’

  ‘Realism, sunny boy. I’m a realist.’

  ‘If you want realism, that’s not all the glow-worms attract. They attract tourists—about six million dollars’ worth for tour operators a year.’

  The conversation stopped because they’d rounded a bend in the path and ahead and to the side, in the cracks and crevices under a deep overhang of rock, tiny tendrils of blue-green luminescence shone in hundreds of strands.

  The more she looked, the more she saw. Georgia was silenced. Her hand tightened on Max’s and she sighed with delight.

  ‘Wow. Now, that’s one spectacular show.’

  She could tell Max was pleased with himself and her response.

  ‘You should appreciate the world of the glow-worm,’ he said. ‘Every time a midge or similar insect runs into a hanging line it sticks and is hauled up by the worm, using its mouth, and stored for later.’