City Surgeon, Small Town Miracle / Bachelor Dad, Girl Next Door

by Marion Lennox / Sharon Archer

  The corridor he felt his way down was in complete darkness. So was the apartment through the door. Maybe stopping to fetch a torch would have been sensible.

  He wasn’t feeling sensible.

  He swung the door wide and called. ‘Maggie?’

  Nothing.

  Did he stumble round in the dark and see if he could find her? Hell, he’d scare the living daylights out of her.

  He raised his voice. ‘Maggie?’

  Still nothing.

  It wasn’t completely dark. There was a faint glimmer from the hall mirror, reflecting light from outside. His eyes were finally adjusting to a darkness that was more intense here than in the moonlight outside, but it was still a less intense dark than the corridor. He could see shapes. A bench in the kitchenette. A hall lamp. The living-room settee.

  ‘Maggie?’

  He was feeling his way in, wondering if he had the right apartment. There were four doors in this corridor and he’d got here by feel.

  It’d be just his luck to have the wrong apartment.

  ‘I’m a doctor,’ he called, just in case some stranger was sitting bolt upright in bed, preparing to have a heart attack because of a prowler in their apartment. ‘I’m looking for Maggie. I’m looking for a pregnant woman in trouble.’

  He sounded stupid, he thought, edging into the sitting room as he called.

  The drapes were wide open and he could see the moonlit sea beyond. Then, as he drew further into the room, he saw there was another light source outside. Low light, hidden until now by the bulk of the settee.

  He moved cautiously forward, hit his knee on a coffee table and swore.

  ‘Maggie?’ He tugged open the big glass door to see where the light from outside was coming from. ‘Maggie?’

  ‘Did you bring gas?’ a voice demanded from floor level, and the words were a series of breathless, pain-filled, gasps. ‘If you didn’t, kill me now. Oh, Max…’

  She’d set up a birth centre. She was on the tiled balcony floor but on bed of sorts, a mound of soft bedding right at the edge of the terrace, where the open protective rails gave her a sweeping vista of the sea beyond.

  There were candles everywhere. She was surrounded by a sea of light, a complete circle apart from the line of sight between her and the sea. The moon was hanging low, casting a silvery trail of moonbeams over the ocean. They looked almost a ribbon, reaching out to touch the woman on the cushions at his feet.

  Apart from the hush-hush of the waves on the sand below there was complete silence. All this Max absorbed in a fraction of a second. And then…

  ‘Mmmmmmmmmpf…’

  It was a long, low moan, so low that unless he was right next to her he’d never have heard it. For Max, who’d delivered a thousand babies or so, it was the quietest birthing moan he’d ever heard.

  Forget the moonbeams. He was frantically shifting candles so he could get to her. He wanted so much to take her in his arms, but there was still a part of him that was sensible. ‘Obstetrician Goes Up In Flames’ wasn’t a headline he wanted to hit the newsstands any time soon.

  Obstetrician? Maybe he was.

  Indeed he was. For even as he took in what was happening, even as emotion hit him like a kick in the guts, his professional side was kicking in as well. Making him sensible; making him take the time to make the scene safe before he could kneel beside her and tug her into his arms and hold her close.

  It took seconds and then he had her.

  ‘Mmmmmmmmmmmpf…’

  Another contraction already…

  He held her tight until it passed, and then he kept on holding her. Yes, he needed to be her doctor, but first there was an urgent need to be…Maggie’s man.

  ‘Max,’ she whispered, and he simply held her until the next contraction hit and beyond. Maggie’s man? Some truths were beyond question. Then…

  ‘No gas?’ she demanded.

  ‘I didn’t bring my bag,’ he said ruefully. ‘I ran.’

  ‘You ran.’

  ‘Dumb,’ he said. ‘Like you having your baby in the middle of a power strike. You didn’t think to call for help?’

  ‘I’ve called for help.’

  ‘To me?’

  ‘I called the ambulance. You’re not an obstetrician,’ she said, with a breathless attempt at dignity.

  ‘I’m an obstetrician. Can you bear me to examine you?’

  ‘Mmmmmmmmmmpf…’

  ‘That was a yes?’

  He didn’t want to be Maggie’s doctor, he thought. He wanted to keep right on holding her. He also wanted a full birthing suite. A full obstetric team.

  ‘I did call…the ambulance…’ she repeated. ‘Hours ago. I hoped the ambulance could get through. I didn’t think you could.’

  ‘I’d have been here earlier if you’d phoned me.’

  ‘You want me to apologise for not phoning?’ she gasped. ‘You didn’t bring gas. I’m holding it against you for ever. Mmmmmmmmmpf…’

  ‘I’m holding you against me for ever,’ he said shakily, but he couldn’t. He had to set her down again on the cushions and be her doctor.

  ‘I’m…I think I’m going to push,’ she managed.

  ‘Try not to till I’ve seen.’

  ‘Then hurry up and see,’ she said, and moaned again.

  ‘You want to yell?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll wake the neighbours.’

  ‘Someone might have gas,’ he said. ‘Did you think of that? If you yelled someone might have come and helped you.’

  ‘I only want you. Mmmmmmmmpf…’

  The head…

  ‘Maggie, she’s crowning.’

  ‘Don’t care. Mmmmmmpf…’

  ‘You do care,’ he said, hauling the candles closer to where he needed to see. Then as another contraction rippled through and he realised how close she was to delivering, he suddenly changed direction, shifting candles, cushions, shoving Maggie’s whole makeshift bed and Maggie with it along the balcony so she was hard against the wall. So he could haul her into sitting position and leave her propped up, gasping, fighting, bearing down, so she could see…

  So she could see her daughter enter the world.

  And then…There was moment’s stillness. A moment’s peace where the world held its breath. Where even the moonlit sea seemed to hush. Until…

  She screamed, a scream to wake every neighbour from Coogee to Bondi, a truly excellent birthing scream that came with that last triumphant push.

  ‘Slow…Slow…’ he said urgently, and she did, backed off, stopped pushing, while his fingers found…cord.

  Not a problem—he had it free in seconds.

  Oh, thank God he was here.

  ‘Go,’ he said, and she sighed and groaned and held her knees and pushed with one mighty heave—and managed to see…

  As her baby daughter slipped into Max’s hands and into the world.

  No one came. The scream that could have woken the dead evoked no response at all.

  There was no sound at all as Max cleared the baby’s airway, checked her breathing, felt this tiny, perfect being come to life in his hands. Maggie’s daughter didn’t cry. She simply stared upward, dazed, incredulous, vernix-coated, slippery as hell.

  And inside him, something that had been missing for a long, long time settled back into his heart and stayed.

  What could ever be more perfect than this? This moment of birth.

  And this birth was the best. Delivering Maggie’s baby…Quite simply he felt like the luckiest man alive, and as he slipped the tiny girl onto Maggie’s breast, watched the baby slide against her mother’s skin, saw Maggie’s hands cradle her daughter, watched her eyes fill with tears, saw the two of them mould into one moment of absolute perfection, he knew his world could never be the same again.

  He knew he could never want it to be the same.

  He didn’t speak. Instead he simply watched, and smiled and smiled and smiled.

  Finally Maggie looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, and wh
ispered simply, ‘Thank you, Max.’

  ‘It was my privilege,’ he said softly. ‘I believe that I love you.’

  The world held its breath once more.

  She stared at him for a long moment. Awed. Then slowly the corners of her mouth curved into a smile

  ‘It took only that,’ she whispered, and the world started again. Back on the beach the waves began again, life began again. ‘Oh, Max, my love. My heart.’ She was smiling and smiling, her eyes misty with love and with happiness. ‘For you to love me…How can you mean it?’

  ‘I never say things I don’t mean. Maggie, how can I not love you?’

  She hesitated, and he saw her smile falter. ‘But…’

  But? He didn’t want to hear a but—and he wouldn’t do anything to mess with that smile.

  ‘Maggie, I won’t rush you into anything,’ he said quickly, touching her face lightly with his fingers. Wondering how this wonderful woman could possibly call him her love. Her heart. But with that one word—‘But’—reality had broken in a little. Sense was starting to prevail.

  The professional side of him was still playing a part. Right now, Maggie was at the most vulnerable moment of a woman’s life. The emotion she was feeling must be overwhelming. To take her to him—to claim her as his own—was what he wanted to do more than anything in the world, but not now.

  ‘I’ll not push you further,’ he whispered. ‘Not this night. I swear I’ll feel the same, now, tomorrow and for ever, but if it takes months for you to believe me, then so be it. I’ll wait for however long it takes.’

  He was watching Maggie’s daughter find her breast, take her first taste of Maggie’s milk. Wondering how she could doubt his love. But if Maggie needed time, he had to give it to her.

  ‘Oh, Max, I do love you,’ she whispered, and he felt the last trace of the heavy load of armour he’d placed around his heart disappear to nothing. ‘My Max.’

  But her instinctive ‘But’ still had him shaken. It had reminded him that this was no time to demand commitment. It wasn’t fair.

  There was a reason laws were in place to protect the doctor-patient relationship, he thought, forcing himself to be sensible. He wasn’t about to play on her gratitude and her emotions. He must hold back!

  ‘What…what will you call her?’ He was struggling hard to return to being professional—he needed to, because the birthing process wasn’t quite over. But as far as Maggie was concerned it was done. Life was here now, complete. For all of them.

  ‘Rose,’ she said.

  ‘Is that a name you and Will picked out?’

  ‘We didn’t choose,’ she whispered. ‘We didn’t dare to think there’d ever be a baby. I did wonder about Chloe, only now I see her…she’s just Rose. And I’ll add an Elizabeth for Betty.’ She smiled shyly up at him, looking almost anxious. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Pretty much perfect.’

  ‘I think so,’ she said. ‘Stitches?’

  ‘Nothing to stitch.’

  ‘Too perfect,’ she said, shy giving way to smug. She was relaxing again now, and she was looking just about as happy as it was possible for a woman to be. ‘I’m so good at this.’

  Right. He didn’t mention the cord around Rose’s neck. There were some things Maggie didn’t need to know. How close she might have come…

  It didn’t bear thinking about.

  ‘I’d like you up this end of the bed,’ Maggie said, sounding suddenly like the old Maggie, like the strong and imperious woman he loved.

  ‘I believe I need to clean up.’

  ‘It can wait,’ she said. ‘I need to be kissed.’

  So much for the doctor-patient relationship. He touched her face again, loving her with every part of his being.

  He still needed to be sensible. He still needed to remember that instinctive ‘But’.

  Okay, Maggie needed to see that what he was feeling wasn’t the result of need and loss and all the things that had been messing with his head for so long. But right now…

  ‘Max, right now I’m holding my daughter and I believe my world is wonderfully, amazingly fabulous,’ she whispered, loving him with her smile. ‘The only thing that could make it more perfect is if you kissed me. So…’

  So he’d never know how she was going to finish that sentence, for he had her in his arms, her daughter gently cradled between them, and he was kissing her as she wanted to be kissed.

  As he wanted to kiss her.

  Which was pretty much as perfect as a kiss could be.

  They slept—or Maggie and Rose slept, and Max lay with Maggie in his arms, with tiny Rose wrapped and snuggled between them.

  If he slept he might move too close, put in peril this tiny, precious creature who already felt a part of him. He had her nestled between them so Maggie could feel her daughter’s closeness, but Max could feel the baby’s warmth as well, her tiny snuggling movements, her flawlessness.

  With the roads still blocked from the night, the usual sounds from the street below were silent. There was only the ocean, the moonlight over the water, this woman, this baby.

  Life was perfect.

  There were complications. He knew it. He was a surgeon in a major teaching hospital and Maggie had committed herself to be a country doctor and farmer. Were the two compatible?

  Could Maggie leave Yandilagong to be with him?

  The decision was too hard for now. They needed time to think.

  Only there wasn’t much space in his head to think. All he could think was how right Maggie felt in his arms, and how wonderful life felt right now.

  Maggie stirred some time toward dawn. It was still dark. She could close her eyes and sleep again, only right now she was too happy to sleep. She felt her daughter nestled beside her. Max’s arm was under her shoulders, his chest was her pillow, she was cradled against him and she felt so happy she was almost floating.

  Yet she’d said, ‘But.’

  Why? It had been an instinctive reaction, a stab of acknowledgement of every barrier that lay between them. ‘But it’s impossible that you love me.’ Only right now she couldn’t even think what those barriers were.

  So why had she said it?

  It had changed things, she thought, no matter how he’d reassured her. She’d told him she’d loved him, but he’d moved onto practical things again. She had allowed the real world a glimpse in.

  But she wanted to love him in the real world as well. She wanted to be with him. In Max’s arms, with her daughter by her side, she felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

  There were problems. Even within her haze of relief and love and happiness she could dimly acknowledge that. Maybe that’s what her ‘But’ had been about. She’d promised Betty that she’d care for Angus, she’d care for the farm, she’d even told her the medical needs of Yandilagong were settled. How could she simply abandon that promise and walk into Max’s life?

  She would if he asked her. She must. She’d find a way.

  Max loved her. How wonderful was that? How wonderful was life?

  It was too wonderful to let herself think about problems right now, she thought dreamily. Problems were for tomorrow. Right now she was in the arms of the man she loved with all her heart, and her daughter—their daughter?—was between them.

  She smiled a cat-got-the-cream smile and she nestled closer into Max. His arm tightened instinctively around her.

  She was loved.

  She slept.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  SOON after the sun rose, when the power finally came on, when the city slowly came back to life, an ambulance arrived. Maggie was bundled up to be taken to hospital, so Rose could have all the checks she needed, and Maggie could be cared for.

  If Maggie had her way she’d stay right where she was, but it wasn’t possible. Max couldn’t stay with her—or wouldn’t. The impulsive declarations of the night were over.

  ‘For we do need to take this slowly,’ he told her as he helped lift them both into the back of the ambulance. �
�I need to go back to work. You need to go back to the farm.’

  ‘I don’t want to go back.’ Impulsive, stupid or not, that was an absolute.

  But Max was made of sterner stuff than she. Some time during the night a decision had been made.

  ‘Maggie, I said I won’t rush you and I won’t,’ he said. ‘Last night you had a baby. You’re an emotional—’

  ‘Mess? I am not,’ she said, ready to be indignant, but he smiled and placed a finger on her lips.

  ‘Of course you’re not. But there’s all sorts of things to be thought out before we decide where to take…what we’re feeling for each other. You promised Betty you’d stay on the farm. Yes?’

  ‘I…’ Her face clouded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Today’s not the day to make a decision to break that promise,’ he said gently. ‘I love you and I want you but I will not pressure you. You go to hospital, then you go back to the farm and we’ll take things from there. Maybe in three months…’

  ‘Three months!’ She was on a stretcher, settled into the ambulance and she said the ‘three months’ as a wail. If she hadn’t been cradling her daughter she might have got up and told him where he could put his three months.

  But Max’s expression was firm. A decision had been made. ‘Maggie, it’s life-changing decisions we’re talking here,’ he told her, and he kissed her lightly on the lips—and then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he kissed her more deeply. ‘I want no regrets when we move forward together,’ he added.

  ‘Will you still want me in three months?’

  ‘I’ll always want you,’ he said simply, and he kissed her again, so deeply this time that the paramedics sighed and looked at their watches. He pulled away at last, smiled ruefully and climbed out of the van. ‘Off you go, then, you and Rose. I’ll clean up here and bring a suitcase to you later. And then…I’m working in the same hospital, my love. I won’t be far away. Three months, my Maggie. We’ll live that long.’

  ‘Only if I have you waiting for me at the end,’ she muttered, but she knew in her heart that what he was saying was sensible. She even managed to smile back. ‘Oh, Max, I love you so much.’