by Fiona Lowe
For less than a second her gaze wavered and then she tilted her chin. ‘And your mother will provide that while you’re away.’
He stared at her, wondering if he really knew her at all—if yesterday he’d misread the love and care in her eyes for him and Imogen. ‘Oh, right—I take a selfish holiday and destroy the fledgling trust I’ve started to build up with her, and instead instil such a level of anxiety that she spends the next five years waiting for me to leave. Won’t that make adolescence fun?’
She didn’t say a word, and his conviction that she loved him and Imogen was snuffed out like a flame starved of oxygen. Memories of Mary hovered—arms crossed and ultimatums issued.
A woman who loves you will stay.
Sophie had spoken those words to him yesterday morning.
Nothing about her body language hinted at her staying, and the reality of the situation fell irreparably into place. ‘You’re going to turn your back on Imogen and I and leave, aren’t you?’
She bit her lip, her face pale under her freckles. ‘It’s better that I go now. Better for you and Imogen.’
His heart ripped in half and he gripped the railing so hard he thought he’d crush it. ‘How do you figure that?’
‘You’ll hate me less for it now than later.’
Her words crushed him. ‘That’s the only thing you’ve said that makes any sense.’ Then, unable to stop it, he felt his lip curl, he gave into anger and let hurt have full rein. ‘But I was forgetting you’re an expert at this, having already left Simon for the same reason.’
She recoiled as if he’d slapped her across the cheek.
He thought he heard her mumble, ‘I didn’t love him,’ but he realised that was just his own desperate imagination.
When she finally spoke, her words were loud and clear and her face distant and determined. ‘I’ve never pretended to you that I wanted a family or a relationship.’
‘That’s because you’re too busy pretending you don’t.’
‘I’m sorry, Jack.’ It came out as a plea.
But he didn’t want to stay and listen to nonsensical platitudes, and no way in hell was he offering her absolution. ‘Move your stuff into the Barragong Motel and book yourself on the Boxing Day bus. Your last day of duty is Christmas Day.’
She didn’t even flinch at the date he’d deliberately chosen to hurt her with as he tried to offset his own pain which ran so deep.
‘What will you tell Imogen—?’
Her voice cracked on the little girl’s name but he had no sympathy for her. She’d made her choice abundantly clear. He glared at her, so angry and so bereft that he wanted to sob, but with Herculean effort he held it together. ‘What I tell her is none of your concern. Your leaving forfeits that right.’
He heard her shocked gasp but he didn’t wait for a reply. Wrenching open the door, he strode to Imogen’s room. Standing quietly in the doorway he watched his daughter sleep, seeking refuge in the one constant that made sense in his life when all his hopes and dreams had turned to ash.
‘Diana’s champing at the bit to be discharged.’ Jenny, the straight-talking midwife, greeted Sophie as she arrived on to the ward. ‘I rang Jack thinking he might come in and do it this morning, because I know you’ve been flat out, but he says he’s not working and you’re it. You look like hell, by the way.’
Sophie tried to smile and act like everything was as normal as it had been last week, even though absolutely nothing came close to resembling normal. ‘It’s Christmas Eve; Jack’s minding Imogen and he’s probably busy preparing for tonight’s carol service.’
Jenny frowned. ‘That accounts for today, but what about the last forty-eight hours? You two have shared the clinic and hospital patients for the last three weeks and juggled Imogen between you, so why change now?’
Because I hurt him; because he hates me. ‘Jack’s technically on holidays, and I’m the one supposed to be working.’ Sophie grabbed Diana’s chart out of the midwife’s hands. ‘I better go and see her before she checks herself out.’
She hurried down the corridor, desperate to escape Jenny’s questions. She knew she looked like death warmed up but there wasn’t much she could do about that, seeing as she hadn’t slept in three nights. The motel wasn’t anything stunning, but even if she’d been in a five-star international hotel she still wouldn’t have been able to sleep.
Why was doing the right thing so hard? She loved Jack but she had to leave him, because she’d only let him down when she made a hash of motherhood, and then it would all end in acrimony. She would have done anything to leave town two days ago but she had a contract to honour, even though Jack was cutting it off early. He’d played hardball, insisting she stay until Boxing Day, but she knew he’d done that for Imogen because he didn’t want to be on call until his mother was home.
Will you come back? She tried to stop the agitated feeling that thudded through her whenever she thought of Imogen. For the umpteenth time she told herself that she was the adult and by leaving now she was protecting the child. Besides, it had only been three short weeks, and it was unlikely that Imogen would have really become attached to her. Jack was her main carer and when anything went wrong it was Jack who Imogen wanted.
But her heart kept disagreeing with her head, sending nausea swilling through her gut. You’ve let her down badly. She entered Diana’s room and her feet stopped as if glued to the floor. Baby Caitlyn was snuggled at her mother’s breast, gulping in milk, and Diana gazed down at her daughter, cocooning her in love.
A pain lanced Sophie so sharply, she almost doubled over. You could have had this.
I’d ruin it.
‘How are mother and daughter doing?’
Diana glanced up with a smile, which wavered before creasing into a slight frown. ‘Better than you, by the looks of it. Has A&E gone troppo?’
‘Sorry I didn’t make it before lunch.’ Sophie stroked the baby’s head. ‘How’s she been feeding?’
‘She’s doing so well for a thirty-six weeker that I’m thinking perhaps my dates were wrong.’
‘She’s certainly more awake than the average prem baby, and she’s gained weight, which is what we like to see. My only concern is her slight jaundice, so keep an eye on that, and if she does get sleepy bring her in.’
Diana nodded her understanding. ‘I’ll let the early-morning sunshine come in for some natural phototherapy.’
‘Good idea.’ Sophie smiled. ‘Do you have any questions before I officially discharge you?’
Diana eased the now-sleeping Caitlyn off the breast. ‘Can you hold her for a minute?’
Sophie hesitated. She’d prefer not to have anything to do with children at the moment.
‘You won’t break her.’ Diana held her daughter out towards her, her gaze disconcertingly direct.
Sophie’s arms started to throb with an ache very familiar to most women, an ache dating back to the dawn of time. She slid them around the swaddled baby and breathed in the fresh, baby scent—but instead of the sweet, milky aroma she could suddenly smell apples and freshly washed hair so strongly it was as if both were in the room with her. The memory of the scent of Imogen’s shampoo, the sight of tangled, wet curls, and the touch of a warm, slippery body as she threw herself into the fluffy towel that Sophie always held up, thundered through her. Tears pricked her eyes and her heart bled. I did the right thing, though, didn’t I?
Diana adjusted her feeding bra and buttoned up her blouse. ‘I go through almost as many clothes as Caitie does.’
Sophie tried to smile but her mouth refused to curve upwards. ‘How are you finding it?’
‘It?’ Diana looked perplexed.
‘Motherhood.’
‘It’s only day five, but we’re learning together. I think that’s what being a mother is all about, or at least that’s what my mother tells me. Often you’re only one step ahead of the kid, and sometimes you’re a step behind.’
Sophie knew exactly what she meant. She’d always felt a
giant step behind with Minty, and a few steps with Imogen, although just lately she’d had moments of being ahead. ‘Doesn’t that scare you? I mean, what if you make a mistake?’
The new mother pondered the question. ‘I don’t think I’m scared. A bit nervous, perhaps.’ She gave a wry laugh. ‘I know I’ll probably make a heap of mistakes, because that goes with the territory, but I’ll be doing my absolute best and that’s all I can do.’ She smiled serenely. ‘I’ve got Max to balance off against, so you’ve got to hope one of us will have our act together if the other one is floundering.’
We’ll make great parents. She pushed away Jack’s beguiling voice. She knew the truth about herself even if he refused to recognise it.
Diana eyes studied Sophie’s face. ‘What’s going on, Sophie? Max says Jack looks as drawn as you do.’
She handed Caitlyn back. ‘It’s the heat.’
‘It’s way more than the heat.’ Diana’s hand touched her arm. ‘I don’t understand. I’ve seen the way the two of you have been looking at each other since you arrived. Everyone in town’s talking about how good you are together, and how great you both are with Imogen.’
‘Jack’s the one who’s great with Imogen. Unlike me, he’s a natural with children.’ Sophie stood up and pulled out her stethoscope. ‘Let’s examine this little one so you can take her home.’
Diana unwrapped the baby from the bunny rug. ‘Jack does have an unnatural amount of patience. We’ve all tried to hate him for it, especially when we get annoyed and snap when some kid has pushed us to the end of our rope. But he’s no saint, Sophie, and he does crack sometimes.’
You were the one that kept your cool, not me. She thought back to the dinner when Imogen had refused to eat her vegetables. They’d all been hot and tired, and she’d had to fight so hard against yelling and falling apart. But it was Jack who’d got cross. She’d been the one to compromise with Imogen, trading off carrots and capsicum against the refused broccoli.
But so many other times she’d floundered, not really knowing if she was doing the right thing or not—mostly listening to her gut and always second guessing her decisions. Was that what being a mother was all about—instinct, not science?
She rolled her shoulders back. She was a doctor who dealt with facts; she might not know how to be a mother but she knew exactly how to be a doctor. Shoving the stethoscope into her ears, she listened to Caitlyn’s heart and checked her reflexes, her hips and spine before putting the nappy back on.
Diana gave her a speculative look. ‘You know, you’re pretty good yourself with Imogen, considering you had the harder job.’
Sophie’s hand stalled on the nappy pin. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Jack’s known Imogen on and off for five years, but you’ve only been in her life for three weeks. He has the history and the emotional attachment, and Im trusts him. But to Im you were just another stranger in the parade of many who’ve moved through her life. You’ve done an awesome job, getting her to trust you so quickly. I think you just need to start trusting yourself.’
I hate you, Sophie.
I want Sophie.
She gave the nappy pin a hard push through the layers of material. ‘Life’s just not that simple, Diana.’
‘It doesn’t have to be complicated, either.’ Diana leaned over, picked up a hand-made card and passed it to Sophie. On the cover was a child’s drawing of a couple with a baby. ‘Im drew this for Max, Caitlyn and I. Open it.’
Sophie turned over the cover and inside was a picture of three stick figures—a little girl with curly black hair holding hands with a tall man with black hair and a woman whose head was twice as wide with huge, red curls. All wore huge smiles.
We’re a family. Im had drawn the three of them as a family. The family Imogen wanted. The family Jack wanted.
It’s time you accepted you’re a good mother.
You’re not a teenager any more, you’re a mature woman. Trust yourself that you can do this.
Her heart both cried and sang at the same time and a tear rolled down her cheek. A family. She wanted this.
Will you come back?
Of course I’ll come back.
Her breath stalled as maternal pain tore through so hard and fast it almost ripped her in half. What had she done? She’d been given the gift of unconditional love from a wonderful man and a gutsy little girl, and she’d run from their love because she didn’t trust herself.
She’d broken Imogen’s trust. She’d made Jack hate her.
And all for what? Jack had been right; he’d seen straight through her. She’d been letting fear rule her life and now she’d lost everything she’d ever needed. A sob caught in her throat as she recalled Jack’s harsh and unforgiving expression when he’d ordered her out of the house.
How did she even start to make amends and get back her family she’d so badly rejected?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
SOPHIE stumbled to her feet, dizzy with the need to see Jack and Imogen and to try to make everything right. ‘Caitlyn’s fine to make her debut in the kinder nativity-play in a few hours.’
‘Sophie, sit down, you’re ashen.’
She ignored the nurse’s command and ran from the room, dumping her white coat at the desk, grabbing her phone and pager and sprinting to the car park. She turned on the ignition and floored the accelerator, sending gravel flying as she sped down the road. Five minutes later she got stuck behind a slow sheep-transport truck, and the stream of cars heading into town for the evening’s Christmas Eve festivities prevented her from overtaking. The usual fifteen-minute trip turned into twenty-five, and she almost wept.
Turning at the Santa, please stop here sign, she bounced down the track and roared in over the cattle grid. Jack’s vehicle was in the drive parked alongside a Mercedes Kompressor. Her heart quivered as panic fluttered in her chest. All she’d been able to think about since leaving the hospital was getting to the Armitage house and finding Jack. Talking to Jack.
She hadn’t anticipated visitors. Her head spun and her chest heaved, her breath coming way too fast. She pushed back from the steering wheel and blew out a long, slow breath, trying to get herself under control. This was her one shot at happiness and she had to get it right.
She started to walk up the front steps, planning on ringing the bell, when she heard voices—male and female—shouting out Imogen’s name.
Jack strode around the veranda and stopped short. His thick hair, usually so neat, was spiked up as if his hands had ploughed through it and his handsome face was haggard. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
His words stabbed bluntly through her heart. ‘I need to talk to you, I—’
‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ He marched past her, making a funnel with his hands, and called out, ‘Im?’
An older woman’s voice called out in the distance, ‘Imogen, come back, sweetheart. Immy.’
A sliver of dread crawled across Sophie’s skin. ‘Jack, where’s Imogen?’
He turned, his eyes sparking white like flint, but that didn’t disguise the desperation and fear. ‘Do you really care?’
The bullet hit, ripping through her, but before she could reply a woman similar in age to Jack ran around the front of the house. ‘She’s not in the chook shed, the tree house, the sandpit, swing set or the pool.’
An older woman who Sophie recognised instantly as Jack’s mother stepped out of the front door onto the veranda. ‘I’ve been through the cottage garden twice and she’s not there.’
‘And I’ve checked under the house, the garage and the shed.’ Jack ran his hand across the back of his neck. ‘Ring the police, Mum, and get a search party happening. Jules, you double back and check out the garden again, and I’ll take the quad bike down the back track in case she wandered down there.’
‘Down there’ was the gorge, a place full of dangers for an adult, let alone a five-year-old. Panic morphed into full-blown fear. Sophie grabbed Jack’s arm, pulling hard to stop him from walking do
wn the steps. ‘How long has she been gone?’
‘An hour.’
Her heart cramped. That was a long time for a child to be lost in this heat, in the vast expanse of outback that surrounded them. She thought back over the last three weeks, all the hours and days she’d spent with Imogen. If anything, she tended to be clingy because of her mother’s abandonment and always wanted to stay close for cuddles and stories. Her sudden disappearance didn’t make any sense. ‘But why would she wander off? She’s never done that before.’
Jack’s hand grasped hers and threw it off his arm. ‘This is your fault, Sophie.’
His anger and pain blasted through her so hard she swayed and needed to grab hold of a veranda post to keep her upright.
‘Jack.’ Min shook her head as if to say, ‘don’t; concentrate on Imogen’.
This is your fault. Sophie struggled not to let fear and guilt envelop her and steal away all her control. Had Imogen been so distraught by her leaving that she’d run away? A wail rose in her chest but somehow she forced it back down. There’d be a lifetime for recriminations, but right now she had to find her little girl.
‘Where did you see her last?’ Sophie heard the plea in her voice as she glanced around at everyone.
‘We’ve got this covered, Sophie. You can leave.’ Jack held his arm out towards the steps, dismissing her.
Min sighed and turned to Sophie. ‘It was just as Juliet arrived. Immy was so excited about the concert and was begging us to let her wear her costume. We’d given in and said she could wear it but that she had to play quietly with the Christmas train, and that’s what she was happily doing. We walked down the hall to greet Juliet, and when we walked back she was gone.’
Where could she be? The heat haze from the red earth beyond the garden shimmered, mocking her, saying that the desert could so easily swallow up a child and never return her. You’ve lost her.
No, I have not! She closed her ears to the argument in her head, to the fears that plagued her, just like she’d used to block out the noise of the falling bombs. She sought the place where she could really think.
