by Annie O'Neil
“Four?” Her lips parted into an I-don’t-know-how-it-happened expression and he couldn’t help but laugh. A little bit of panic was in there. Quadruplets? Híjole! Then he’d really have to step up.
He swallowed.
Like he was now? At arm’s length and promising nothing?
“Four isn’t that many buckets of feed, is it?”
Feed. Yes. Of course. They were talking about feed. Plenty of time to confront his demons in the midnight hours.
“There’s more kid in you than in some of these kids!” he teased, hoping she’d missed his mini panic attack and had seen instead the hit of genuine gratitude he felt at being invited along. The day had been fun. She was the only person who’d managed to bring out the funster in him. The man he hadn’t tapped into since his sister had died. It hadn’t seemed right. It hadn’t seemed fair.
“Well, it’s been ages since I’ve been to the zoo and you can’t feed the animals like this in London. Such lovely, furry, furry little beasts! It’s good therapy!”
Matteo rolled his eyes good-naturedly. A few weeks ago he would’ve rolled his eyes and walked away. Who was he kidding? A few weeks ago you wouldn’t have found him wandering round the zoo.
“Is this your covert way of saying I need fixing?”
“Don’t worry—I’m the last person who is going to try and fix you!” Her eyes widened, fingers flying to cover her mouth in horror.
Without even thinking, Matteo slung an arm over her shoulder and squeezed her in for a little cuddle. She hadn’t meant anything by it. No point in feeling bad.
“Ai, you make me laugh, amorcita. Not many people are brave enough to speak the truth.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead as if he did it all the time. Wanted to do all the time?
“It’s not normally what I do, either!” She looked up into his eyes, cheeks going pink at the connection. “I guess...you bring out the bravery in me.”
He could have pulled her into his arms right there and then, kissed her and kissed her until the rest of the world just faded away. Her soft blonde hair was a fluff of gentle waves, her blue eyes so clear and true. He was already halfway there, holding her tucked under his arm like a delicate, beautiful bird, her chin tilted up towards his face, her eyes asking questions neither of them dared to voice. He felt another deep hit of emotion. Love? Had he reached a point where he felt his sister’s death had been...been what? Avenged? That didn’t sit right. Would sharing his fears with Harriet help her understand? His head bent just a touch closer to hers, his lips parting as he moved. She blinked, but didn’t pull away. Could he give her everything she deserved?
“There they are!”
Matteo looked swiftly to his right to see a clutch of children on high-speed approach. He and Harriet, it appeared, were the endgame of a pell-mell race to the finish line. They split apart instantly, moved by a gut instinct not to be seen holding one another like lovers, or to be barreled down by racing children.
The littlest of the boys, Tico, emerged from the scramble of children, his face triumphant with near success. They were only a few meters away and against all odds he was pulling ahead of the taller children. Tico was going to win!
“Oh, no!”
Harriet saw it coming at the same time Matteo did. One foot tangled with the other and just short of reaching his goal Tico’s small body became airborne, crashing into Harriet’s—both of them landing on the ground with a thunk. When Tico raised his head, blood flowed from his mouth as if he had an endless supply. Matteo didn’t know whether to check Tico or Harriet first. The baby. Was the baby all right?
Harriet met his frantic expression, hand on her stomach, and nodded. Everything was fine. She and the baby were fine.
“Me gano?” Tico asked, adrenaline from the race still pumping through him. Victory was more important than the pain he would soon be feeling.
“Did you win?” asked Harriet, trying not to look aghast at the boy’s bloodied face. “What was the finish line?”
“You!”
“In that case...” she smiled, pulling some clean tissues from her shoulder bag “...you are definitely the winner!”
“¡Gane!” Tico pushed his hands to the ground to press himself up but instantly yanked his wrist to his chest as if it had been bitten.
“May I see?” Matteo reached out, gently laying out the boy’s small wrist across his hand. Swelling had already begun to inflate the area between his hand and his arm. “Looks like you might need a trip to the hospital.” He looked up at the other children gathering round to gawp at Tico and his injuries. “We need to get you back to school as well, eh?”
“I’ll take him,” Harriet volunteered, already making short work of the blood around Tico’s mouth in an effort to find the source of the bleeding.
“No! The hospitals here are zoos!” Ha! The irony of it all. More pressingly, a pregnant woman in endless queues surrounded by people who had who knew what? It wasn’t worth it. Not at this stage in her pregnancy.
If they had their own clinic, they wouldn’t be at the mercy of the long wait that would no doubt greet them at A and E. Even having an X-ray machine would make a world of difference. And there it was again—the center point of his conundrum. Being with Harriet, loving her, loving their child would all detract from the undivided attention he needed to have to make the casita a success.
He laid Tico’s hand back across the boy’s chest, just above his heart, and folded the boy’s other arm up to hold it.
“I’ll go, Harriet.”
“Tico, can you give me a smile?” Harriet continued, her focus on the little boy absolute.
“Why?” he asked before complying. A big, bloody gap was immediately visible. A gap that hadn’t been there a minute earlier.
Harriet—in true form—didn’t flinch. She just smiled, gave the boy’s cheek a stroke with the backs of her fingers. Matteo chided himself. Of course! Her concern was for the boy. His own was for a lofty aspiration that in reality would most likely never be realized.
“You haven’t got your big-boy teeth yet, have you?” Harriet asked.
“No. Why?” Tico worked his tongue up to the front of his mouth and quickly realized he was missing his two front teeth. Big brown eyes widened before tears came—fear and pain suddenly overwhelming his joy at winning the race.
“May I have a closer look?”
Matteo pressed himself up to standing as Harriet checked to see whether or not the roots of the teeth had gone. Harriet was doing a good job and obviously didn’t need his help. Feeling a bit of a spare part, he called to the other children to once again make more room. As the pain kicked in, there would no doubt be more tears. Tears the little boy would most likely rather shed while being held in the comfort of Harriet’s arms.
Matteo’s hands balled into fists of pure frustration. He could do with a spell in those arms as well. Had one night with Harriet all but undone ten years of discipline? His entire adult life he’d been able separate physical attraction from his emotions. With Harriet they were becoming so interwoven it was almost impossible to separate them. She wasn’t due to stay much longer. The time had raced by. He could do this. He had to do it. For the countless teens and children who needed his help.
“All right, kids. Shall we go and find the rest of your class?”
He ignored the chorus of “No!” and “Por favor!” he received at his rhetorical question and began to corral them, away from Tico and Harriet. All children loved gawping at a good injury. Lucky they didn’t know what was happening inside his chest right now. He’d have a dozen pairs of eyes on him.
He scribbled out the name and address of the hospital Harriet should go to, promising to call a resident he knew there. “Maybe he’ll be able to bump you up the queue.”
She shot him a dubious look. Even he knew his hopeful face hadn�
�t looked too positive.
“It’s all right. We’ll be fine.” She helped Tico up to his feet, his eyes still glued to the dirt path in a vain attempt to find his missing teeth. “Perhaps—” she lowered her voice “—the children could have a look for...” She pointed at her own front teeth. “Just in case.”
“Of course, mija. Anything.” Their eyes met again, cinched by the link of so much more than the words they spoke.
She shook her head and looked away. He’d overstepped the mark. Pushing her away, pulling her close again. His intentions were in the right place, but in practice they were verging on cruel.
“Come on, Tico. Let’s see what’s happening inside that wrist of yours.”
She looked over her shoulder as she left, a smile only just visible on her lips. It was for him. To comfort him.
Selfless. Courageous. In a league of her own. He knew who the better of the pair of them was, and yet he was letting her walk away, taking their child with her.
CHAPTER NINE
“WHAT DID THE orthopedist say?”
Matteo held open Casita Verde’s thick wooden door for Harriet and her seven-year-old charge. They’d been gone for hours. Enough time for him to regroup. Be friendly. Professional. Just what they’d agreed their relationship was. Professional.
Then again, meet and greet wasn’t usually part of the “professional” service. And “usually” had all but gone out the window since Harriet had arrived. Perhaps a bit more regrouping was in order.
“As you thought...” Harriet ruffled the little boy’s head “...it turns out wild races to reach the finish line first sometimes result in a wrist fracture. Not to mention losing your front teeth and gaining a unicorn horn!” The boy gave a gap-toothed grin, a huge lump already coloring the center of his forehead. “You’re young—aren’t you?” Harriet addressed the lad as if they’d known each other for years. “As soon as your grown-up teeth come along, you’ll be as right as rain.”
“I didn’t mean to trip.” The little boy sighed dramatically.
“Of course not, chiquito. It was a rather spectacular win. I’m sure the other children were incredibly impressed!” She switched to Spanish to rattle off a list of things he’d have to do to make sure his arm healed quickly. Well, not exactly rattle.
Matteo fought a smile as she spoke. In just a few weeks her speech had morphed into an amalgam of her native tongue and his. A lilting Spanglish. It never failed to light up his heart to see the children explaining things to her in Spanish, only to have her reply in English, the children nodding along as if it were the most normal way in the world to communicate. He couldn’t quibble. It obviously worked. Who knew a stint of “orphan immersion” could be so effective a language tool? Perhaps he should run courses.
“I’ll just take Tico up to his room as it’s well past his bedtime and then maybe we can go over some of the children’s charts?” Harriet asked, stifling a yawn.
“Absolutely, if it doesn’t put you to sleep.”
“No!” she protested, embarrassed he’d caught her. “Sorry. I’m sparko every afternoon and I missed out on my siesta today.”
“Sparko?”
“British slang for out like a light,” she explained.
“Out like a light?” asked Tico, his little face raised to the adults’ in consternation.
“Dormido. Asleep,” Harriet clarified with a grin, another yawn working its way to the surface.
“Vamonos. I’ll get some mate going in the kitchen to help you stay awake!” Matteo thought for a moment. Yerba mate flowed in the blood of nearly all Argentinians but it had caffeine in it, something Harriet needed to be careful of in her pregnancy. Maybe mint tea would be better.
He paused, watching her lead the gangly boy away, her arm protectively wrapped across his thin shoulders. He liked seeing her blonde head tilted towards Tico’s jet-black hair, a smile lighting up his face as she whispered something that made the boy giggle.
A natural comforter.
She’ll be an incredible mother.
The thought came with an unexpected sting of jealousy. If—when—she left she would no doubt move on. Could even fall in love with another man. The thought of someone else by Harriet’s side, helping to raise his child, having a family of their own didn’t sit well. Not at all.
He raked a hand through his hair with a huff of impatience and headed towards the clinic. He was letting himself care too much. Feel too much. Harriet wasn’t a permanent fixture. She was here to help secure funding for a proper medical center. Four weeks. That was it.
What they had shared in London?
Best to put all of those thoughts back into the further recesses of his mind and forget about them. Some things were simply not meant to be. Even if his heart kept telling him otherwise.
He pushed open the door to the clinic and was assaulted by a riot of color. Another splash of Harriet.
“You couldn’t make do with plain old black and white, could you?
“Not my choice.” Harriet entered the clinic behind him, arms laden with some of the children’s files. “It was completely out of my hands. The children chose them.”
“I didn’t even know we had this many different colors of paper.”
“Then you haven’t gone down on your hands and knees to investigate the back of the crafts cupboard in a while.”
He grunted. Fair enough.
“And do you think your little project is working?” He winced at his own choice of words. He’d already seen the fruits of her labor. He shouldn’t have patronized her.
“Yes,” she answered solidly, refusing to take the bait. “I do think my ‘little project’ is working. Staff rotas shouldn’t be a secret. You’re the people the children count on.”
He noted she didn’t include herself among the staff. Never mind the fact she was endearing herself left, right and center to every living being at the casita. Didn’t it matter to her that she would be leaving them? That she was weaving herself into all their hearts and then would just fly back to England without a second thought? That she was leaving him?
It was precisely why he was the way he was. Pragmatically distant. Nothing was permanent. Nothing lasted forever. Not even family.
“The children have always known there will be someone around. Why does seeing who it will be make any difference?”
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.” This particular brainchild of hers eluded him. “It’s not like we’re withholding the information to be all-powerful.”
“Then why are you withholding it?” She dropped the files onto his desk, her eyes meeting his for the first time.
“I’m not!” Okay. That was defensive.
“Children like to know what’s going on around them. They liked to be prepared for things. The same way adults do.” She laughed, her blue eyes coming alight. “Except for maybe my sister. And my parents, when they were alive. My mother didn’t even like to have a calendar in the house!”
“Is that where you get it from?”
“What?”
“The need to know. The need to plan.”
She considered his questions awhile before answering. “I suppose so. To an extent. But my family was exceptionally mad. Musician father. Artist mother. My sister got all the arty genes.” She smiled, almost apologetically. “Being the sensible one was what I was good at. ‘Oh, thank heavens we have Harriet to keep us tethered to planet earth,’ they’d say.”
A hint of sadness crept into her eyes. Had she felt it too? The urge to be a free spirit? Only to take on the role of the dependable one because her family had pigeonholed her into it? He knew that feeling from his own childhood. His wild and free sister making the most of her youth while he’d remained fastidiously tethered to his books. A fat lot of good being the responsible s
on had done him. So intent on proving he was worth something he’d missed what had been happening before his eyes. He should have known his sister had needed him. And now time was punishing him in spades.
“I’ll tell you one thing, after seven hours at the hospital, you’re definitely right about needing your own medical center.”
He smiled, grateful for the change of topic.
“You didn’t need to fly over from London to tell me that,” Matteo answered drily, instantly wishing he hadn’t fallen back on his “safety net” tone. “Sorry.” He pulled out a chair for her so she could sit alongside him at the long wooden table he used as a desk. “Did I tell you inspections make me touchy?”
“Really?” Harriet feigned disbelief. “That’s been so tricky to figure out over the past few weeks. I’ve never met someone who loves showing a girl his spreadsheets so much.”
She smirked at him then used her finger to draw a figure eight on one of the desk’s bare spots. ‘We were waiting over three hours just for X-rays, even with the call you made to your friend. The resident.”
“It’s a long time for a child to be in pain.”
“It’s a long time for anyone to be in pain. A and E was teeming. It made me think of the stories of A and E departments in the UK some of my friends from nursing college have told me. A good reminder how lucky we are at St. Nick’s.”
“How lucky you are.” No need to be narky. You’re not cross with her, you’re cross with the situation.
“How lucky the children are,” she countered. “Which is more to the point.”
“Well, we do what we can with what we have.” Matteo didn’t know if he was apologizing for his country or just being plain old curmudgeonly. Resources were limited. Which was exactly why Harriet was here. To help. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a breath. It was time to stop fighting her so much. Accepting help shouldn’t be so...so charged! It was just... For heaven’s sake, just look at her! Her pregnancy glow was real, a genuine radiance lighting her up from the inside out. She was one hundred percent beautiful.
