Caring For His Child

by Amy Andrews

‘I’m Glenda Hopkins, the director of nursing.’

  Glenda stuck her hand out for Fran to shake and tried to hide her surprise now she had a close-up view of her prospective employee. Something bad had happened to Fran Holloway. She was the saddest-looking woman Glenda had ever met.

  And that was enough for Glenda. She knew even before she’d seen any paperwork or spoken to Fran that she was going to hire her. ‘Have a seat.’

  As Glenda poured some tea and conducted the interview, her conviction became clearer. Fran Holloway needed them. It was as plain as the nose on her face, even if, in lots of ways, Fran was quite wrong for the job.

  Oh, it was obvious that Fran was a competent nurse but she’d not worked in two years and didn’t seem to have a glowing passion for geriatrics. It had been Glenda’s unfortunate experience that city hospital nurses didn’t tend to do well in a geriatric setting.

  But it didn’t take a genius to figure that something really awful had been responsible for her sabbatical and ultimately, to Glenda, it didn’t matter anyway. What mattered most was that Fran needed these oldies much more than they needed her. She just didn’t know it yet.

  ‘So, what bought you to Ashworth Bay?’ Glenda asked.

  Fran looked over the rim of her teacup and gripped the handle tightly. ‘I…needed a change and I’ve always wanted to live by the sea. When I saw the cottage on a website, I just…knew it was for me.’

  Glenda digested Fran’s evasive answer. There were worse reasons. ‘So when can you start?’

  Fran blinked. It couldn’t be that easy surely—they’d only been talking for a few minutes. ‘Ah…tomorrow?’

  Glenda laughed, a big booming noise that curiously made Fran feel at home. ‘Didn’t you just say you’d only moved in today? I think we can give you a little more time.’

  ‘Wednesday?’ Fran asked.

  Hmm. She was keen. Or desperate? ‘Wednesday it is.’

  They chatted for a while as they finished their tea. Glenda offered Fran a biscuit but she declined, too churned up to eat, and listened as her new boss ran over the general running of the place and the routine.

  A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. It opened before Glenda invited whoever it was in.

  ‘Gossiping about me, Glenda?’ said a male voice with a gentle teasing tone.

  Fran’s back was to the door and she couldn’t see their visitor but she did know the voice.

  ‘Hah! You wish, David Ross. Come here and meet our newest recruit.’ Glenda waved him over as she poured him a cuppa. ‘Dr Ross is Ashworth Bay’s only GP. He pops in every afternoon after his clinic is finished,’ she explained to Fran.

  David Ross? Her nextdoor neighbour, Miranda’s father, was a doctor? Ashworth Bay’s Nursing Home’s doctor?

  David drew closer until he stood beside Glenda’s chair. ‘Fran!’

  Her sad eyes watched him warily and he bit back his effusive response. He took the chair beside her, deciding to approach her carefully, like one would a wounded animal.

  ‘David,’ she murmured. He was wearing dark grey trousers and a light blue shirt. The top two buttons had been undone like he’d just removed a tie. He looked nice and gave her a friendly smile.

  ‘You two already know each other?’ said Glenda, looking from one to the other.

  ‘Fran just bought the Keegans’ place,’ he explained.

  ‘Goodness, what a coincidence! You’re neighbours.’ Glenda beamed at them, shrewdly noting their lack of enthusiasm. Hmm…they were neighbours. Her mind raced with possibilities. Goodness knew, Miranda needed a woman in her life. And David—well, he definitely did!

  David saw the speculative gleam in Glenda’s eyes. She had been his practice nurse until two years ago when Matron James had retired. Glenda’s parents’ health had been declining and she’d needed a less demanding job. She had seen him at his best and most definitely at his absolute worst. He knew how she thought and he shot her a warning look. She beamed at him and winked.

  ‘Small world,’ said Fran, forcing a smile onto tight lips.

  ‘Fran starts on Wednesday,’ said Glenda, watching their interaction closely.

  ‘Well, I’m sure you’ll love it here,’ he said kindly, helping himself to his third biscuit.

  Fran nodded politely. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to know, or are we finished?’ Fran asked Glenda. ‘It’s just that I have such an awful lot to still do today….’

  ‘Of course, my dear,’ said Glenda, standing. David and Fran stood also. ‘You go back to your boxes and I’ll see you at eight on Wednesday morning.’

  Fran felt the familiar dizzy sensation assail her as she shook Glenda’s hand and forced herself to concentrate on not swaying.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Glenda asked as her newest staff member turned a shade paler, which Glenda wouldn’t have thought possible until that moment.

  ‘Of course,’ said Fran dismissively, and turned to leave. As she took her first step the room began to shrink as an encroaching black cloud fogged her vision. Her legs buckled and she began to crumple to the ground.

  David caught her just before she banged her head on the floor.

  ‘Oh, David!’ exclaimed Glenda, pressing a horrified hand to her mouth. ‘What on earth is wrong with Fran?’

  David swept a feather-light Fran into his arms and strode next door into his examination room. He laid Fran on the high narrow couch, a worried Glenda in tow. Fran murmured as her body came into contact with the cold, hard couch. Glenda hooked up an oxygen mask to the wall supply above the bed and put it on Fran’s face.

  ‘She just fainted,’ David murmured as he watched Fran’s light blue eyes flicker open and closed a few times. ‘Let’s get a blood sugar,’ he said to Glenda.

  ‘Ahead of you,’ she said reprovingly, handing him the glucometer.

  Fran felt the brief sting as the lancet pierced her skin and the pressure of David squeezing her finger.

  ‘Ow,’ she murmured, opening her eyes momentarily, confused as to her whereabouts. ‘What are you doing?’ she said to David as a drop of her blood landed on the test strip. She sat up and pulled off her mask.

  ‘You fainted,’ he said. ‘I’m taking your blood sugar.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said, swinging her legs over the edge and shutting her eyes as another wave of dizziness assaulted her. ‘I’m often dizzy. It’s just a bit of postural hypotension.’

  The glucometer beeped. It read 1.2. He held it up so she could read it. ‘When was the last time you had something to eat?’

  Hell! One point two—no wonder she felt lightheaded! Fran searched her memory. ‘Um…last night?’

  He heard Glenda’s gasp as he pressed on. ‘Are you a diabetic?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Glenda, get Earl to prepare something, will you?’

  The director of nursing left, tutting. David smiled after her. Going a few hours without food was something he knew Glenda would never have contemplated. But, then, Glenda had led a blessed and happy life.

  ‘Please, don’t worry. I’mreally not hungry,’ said Fran.

  David pointedly tapped the screen. ‘Look, Fran,’ he said gently as he took her finger and wrapped a sticking plaster around the puncture site. He sought out her sad, sad, eyes and continued softly, ‘I know what it’s like to feel so wretched that eating is a chore you’d rather not bother with. Really, I do know.’

  Fran was caught and held by the note of sincerity in his voice and the compelling flicker of pain in his eyes. The same pain she saw when she looked in the mirror. She felt grateful for a moment to have found another human being who could at least begin to understand the depth of her despair. It was a blissful respite to not have to explain—not that she would have anyway.

  ‘Look, I know my BSL is a little on the low side but, honestly…it’s been a hectic day. I just didn’t have time to eat. And, anyway, it was more likely to be my blood pressure. It’s always a little on the low side.’

  David n
odded. He took the BP cuff down from the wall and quickly established her blood pressure was a little on the low side. But, of course, there was another possibility.

  ‘Could you perhaps be pregnant?’ It would certainly explain why a non-diabetic had such low blood sugar. And it could also explain her emotional state. Was she pregnant and all alone in the world? Had she been dumped? Or had she walked away from an untenable situation?

  Fran felt a ridiculous urge to laugh hysterically. She could feel the bubble of inappropriate emotion rising in her chest and when the noise came it out it sounded more harsh than she’d expected. ‘Hardly.’

  ‘You sound pretty definite. Are you sure?’

  ‘How about the last time I had sex was two years ago?’

  David smiled and nodded. ‘Yep. That’s pretty sure.’

  Fran laughed and David looked so startled that she laughed again.

  ‘You should do that more often,’ he said quietly when she’d stopped.

  ‘Haven’t had a whole lot to laugh about lately,’ she said, her face sobering.

  ‘Hmm. Yes, I figured. Time to start taking care of yourself, Fran.’

  They looked at each other and at that moment Glenda pushed the door open.

  ‘Earl’s got some lovely pumpkin soup and crusty bread. He’s even got some leftover steamed syrup pudding from lunch,’ she said, sitting the laden tray on David’s desk.

  Fran felt her stomach revolt at the very thought of eating but David tapped the glucometer. ‘OK,’ she sighed grudgingly, ‘I’ll have something.’

  David held out his hand and helped her down from the high couch. ‘You OK?’ he asked as she leaned against him briefly.

  No, she wasn’t. Her daughter was dead. Her marriage was over. Her life had completely fallen apart and she was only thirty-seven. She definitely wasn’t OK.

  She nodded and let go of his supportive arm. She wasn’t the only person in the world who had been dealt a bad hand. If she wasn’t mistaken, David Ross definitely had history! But moping about it for the last two years hadn’t got her anywhere—except for a blood sugar of 1.2 and a wardrobe full of clothes that didn’t fit.

  So maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to start taking care of herself. She couldn’t heal her broken spirit if her body was broken, too.

  Glenda left and Fran picked up her spoon, very aware of David’s gaze. ‘Are you going to watch me?’ She felt like an anorexic teenager being watched like a hawk.

  ‘Yep.’

  David sat opposite her and drummed his fingers on the desktop. She sighed and shook her head at the small smile playing on his lips, and when she grudgingly returned it, it became a face-splitting grin.

  The food did smell delicious and tasted divine, but she couldn’t do it justice. With her stomach unused to such large portions, she wasn’t keen to test its limits. She pushed the half-finished soup aside and was just attempting dessert when he spoke.

  ‘So, what’s the Fran Holloway story?’

  Fran paused in mid-mouthful and just looked at him. Telling him to mind his own business was on the tip of her tongue. Did he really think she would unburden her tale of woe on him? A complete stranger and her new neighbour? Even if his eyes told her he would understand, that he’d been through some pretty awful stuff, too? The urge to tell all gripped her unexpectedly and for a brief moment the thought of doing so appealed immensely.

  ‘Come on, Fran,’ he said gently. ‘It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you’ve been through a rough time. Hell, even Mirry noticed. Maybe it would help to talk.’

  ‘I don’t know you,’ she said quietly, trying to fathom why she was a nanosecond away from telling him everything. His gaze was gentle and compelling and she was, oh, so tempted.

  ‘No, but I know you. Or your pain anyway. I can recognise an injured soul when I see one. Trust me, I know how easy it is to lock it away and bury it inside, but I also know how destructive that is.’

  Fran just stared at him, letting his words wash over her. She felt tears prick her eyes and she looked down at her plate. It had been destructive for a long time but she was finally attempting damage control. Still, it was too early to talk about it, no matter how tempting he made it.

  ‘It’s OK, Fran,’ he said, watching her downcast head and cursing himself for pushing. ‘When you’re ready, you know where I live.’

  She looked up and he gave her a gentle smile. She nodded, too emotional suddenly to speak. It was a generous offer to extend to someone he barely knew and although she had no plans to take him up on it she was touched by his kindness.

  ‘Eat up now,’ he said, standing to go, ‘or I’ll send Earl in to spoon feed you.’

  He grinned at her and it was exactly what she needed to balance the emotional see-saw that still swung crazily up and down inside her.

  An open invitation to talk whenever she wanted. How different that was to claustrophobic but well-meaning family and friends back in Canberra who were constantly in her face, worrying abut her and checking on her. Nagging her that she wasn’t eating and that she should be working and that she should go to counselling because it had been two years and she should be over it by now.

  They’d meant well but Fran had been suffocating and at screaming point. David’s no-pressure approach, his gentle understanding was exactly what she needed. Even if it wasn’t any of his business!

  CHAPTER THREE

  A KNOCK on the door at seven-thirty on Wednesday morning startled Fran. She’d just stepped out of the shower and padded barefoot to the door, Fonzie at her heels.

  ‘Who is it?’ she asked as she approached, pulling the lapels of her towelling gown closer.

  ‘It’s David and Miranda.’

  His rich tones seeped through the wood and Fran hesitated before opening the door. She wanted to flee back to the safety of the bathroom. Please, leave me alone, she wanted to say.

  But she didn’t. She opened the door instead. Miranda held a small basket with a checked cloth draped over the top. Fonzie barked excitedly at their visitor and leapt up, his paws on Miranda’s thighs. She giggled.

  Ah, Miranda thought you might like some freshly cooked muffins for breakfast,’ David said.

  She dragged her eyes away from Miranda and Fonzie and noted David was dressed for work. He had on dark trousers and a crisp white shirt. Unlike Monday, he was wearing a tie. And what a tie! Hot pink, with yellow canaries decorating it. Fran blinked at the loudness of it and he shot her an embarrassed grin.

  ‘Mirry is in charge of buying my ties,’ he said, fingering it sheepishly.

  ‘It’s my special job,’ Miranda confirmed, her attention finally drawn from the puppy. ‘I even get to choose which one he wears each day.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Fran, a little lost for something to say because it really was a most awful tie but it somehow made him more…manly. Let’s face it, she thought, you had to be a really confident male to wear such an awful tie.

  She realised suddenly there was something about David she hadn’t noticed before. He was attractive. Oh, it wasn’t an attractiveness that slapped you in the face. It kind of crept up on you slowly. It was the sum of his whole rather than any one feature. His kindness, his confidence. His easy grin.

  Fran blinked. She was standing in her gown on her doorstep, having improper thoughts in front of her new neighbours. She should have been embarrassed but she wasn’t. It had been two years since she’d been aware of anyone other than herself and her own dark, dark world. It felt good to be dragged out of it, if only for a while.

  ‘Anyway,’ said David, as Fran continued to stare at them blankly, ‘you’re obviously in the middle of getting ready for work, so we won’t disturb you any longer.’

  Miranda handed the basket over and Fran took it, pulling back the cloth. Four big, fat, delicious-smelling muffins stared back at her.

  ‘Goodness!’ she exclaimed. ‘All for me?’

  ‘Daddy said you fainted on Monday ’cos you don’t eat properly and I said that�
�s ’cos you were sad and he said Earl’s gonna feed you up and I said I’d help, too…. You will eat them, won’t you?’

  Fran glanced at David who had the grace to look embarrassed and shrugged a what-can-I-say shrug. She looked at Miranda who seemed very earnest. Like she’d been given the most important job in the world and it was vital she did it right. A little frown knitted her reddish eyebrows together and Fran wouldn’t have denied this little girl anything.

  ‘Of course,’ said Fran, smiling at Miranda and feeling her heart squeeze at the gloriousness of the child’s answering grin. ‘It sure beats the toast I was going to have. I think I’ll have one now and take one to work with me.’

  ‘They’re blueberry. I made them all by myself, didn’t I, Daddy?’

  ‘Yes, darling, you’re the best chef in the whole world.’

  ‘Except for Earl, Daddy.’

  ‘Except for Earl,’ he agreed.

  Fran watched as David hugged the little girl to his waist. A fog of emotion encroached from the pit of her stomach and she knew it would only be seconds before it reached her face. Her arms ached watching their embrace and Fran swallowed a lump.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Thanks, Miranda, I’m sure they’ll be delicious.’

  David smiled at her and she saw the relief in his eyes. He was very protective of his daughter—that much was obvious. The fact that she hadn’t shut the door and told them to go away had obviously pleased him. Had he expected her to do that?

  Every grieving cell in her body had demanded it of her but Fran knew even now, after such short acquaintance, Miranda was going to be a hard child to ignore.

  ‘Well, good luck for your first day,’ David said as him and Miranda backed down the path.

  Miranda waved at her as she shut the gate and Fran found herself waving back instead of closing the door. She stood and watched until the mop of red curls disappeared from view.

  Fran’s first day at Ashworth Bay Nursing Home was eventful, to say the least. Just getting back into the swing of things, learning a new routine, familiarising herself with residents and a marathon drug round would have been more than enough but, alas, there was so much more!