A Mother for Matilda/The Boss and Nurse Albright

by Amy Andrews

  And she was going to have to postpone her trip. She wasn’t sure what that meant for Lawson and her and, in truth, that was low down on her list of things to worry about. She couldn’t leave with her father still in the recovery phase of his heart attack. He needed her. And so did the boys. She’d thought she’d be disappointed but nothing was more important to her than her father’s recovery. London would still be there in a few months’ time.

  Vic came in after the afternoon rest period to visit her father. He was expecting the doctor any minute and she wanted to talk to him about his future. ‘Dad, I think we need to talk. About what happens next.’

  Bob kissed his daughter’s cheek. ‘We most certainly do, my lovely.’

  Vic frowned. That was easy. She’d expected him to wave aside any attempts to talk to him about his future.

  ‘I think you should retire.’

  Bob laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Oh, my dear girl, I do love you, but I’m not retiring. I’ll take the full six weeks off, I’ll walk every morning, I’ll change my diet and I’m going to drop to part-time, but I’m not leaving the job.’

  ‘But what about the stress, Dad? The understaffing and the rosters and the skill mix?’

  ‘Part-time will help reduce that load considerably.’

  ‘I don’t know, Dad…’

  ‘Sweetie, I’ve only ever wanted to be two things. A father and a paramedic. And I’m not ready to give up on either of them. Not yet.’

  ‘Oh.’ She didn’t know what to say. Her father had obviously been thinking about the future and had most definitely made up his mind. It wasn’t what she’d hoped for but at least he was thinking about lifestyle changes and it was a good compromise.

  ‘Now. Let’s talk about your future.’

  ‘It’s fine, Dad,’ she dismissed. ‘I’ve already postponed the air ticket.’

  Bob frowned. ‘I certainly hope you didn’t,’ he said. ‘You’ve been looking forward to this trip for a year. Go and get it changed back.’ Bob looked at his watch. ‘You have a couple of hours before the travel agent closes.’

  Vic shook her head. ‘No, Dad. I’m not going to take off to the other side of the world when you’ve just had a heart attack.’

  ‘Vic, you deserve this. You’ve given up so much of your life to help me with your brothers. And now the boys are grown and it’s your time. You have to do this.’

  She noticed the worry lines around her father’s eyes and mouth and didn’t want to upset him. ‘London will still be there in a couple of months.’

  ‘Do you know what your mother said to me just before she died? She said, “Help Victoria be the person she wants to be.”’

  Vic felt that whammy hit her chest and clutched her father’s hand. ‘And I will. I just want to see you through this time, Dad.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said gruffly.

  ‘I think the boys would prefer it if I stayed for a bit longer.’

  ‘Victoria,’ Bob said sternly. ‘They’re not boys any longer, they’re men.’ Vic raised an eyebrow at him. ‘The shoe incident aside,’ he clarified. ‘They have to stop relying on you to wipe their noses and pack their lunches. They’ll be fine.’

  ‘And what if you—?’ She stopped. She didn’t want to entertain the thought that her father would have another heart attack, but his grey face was indelibly printed on her retinas.

  ‘If I have another M.I.? Well, let’s just say that I’ve had a very big wake-up call and I don’t plan to, but, Vic, it can happen any time whether you’re here or there. It could happen while you’re on a night shift or away visiting your aunt at Noosa or at the emergency care convention you go to every year. It could happen in ten years’ time.’

  Vic blanched. ‘Gee, thanks, Dad. I think I can dream up enough scenarios without you giving me any more.’

  ‘My point is there aren’t any guarantees in life. You and I both know that already with your mum.’ He gave her hand a squeeze. ‘You can’t hang around indefinitely just in case.’

  She sighed. ‘Look, I promise I’m just talking until you start back at work and you’re coping okay.’

  Bob shook his head. ‘I’m not happy about this.’

  ‘You think I’ll be able to enjoy London if I’m fretting about you?’

  Bob conceded the point. He smiled at her. ‘We’re a fine pair, aren’t we?’

  ‘I’ll get there, Dad. I promise.’

  ‘You’d better.’ He pulled her forward into a bear hug. ‘Otherwise I’ll just have to sack you.’

  Two weeks later, Vic was really happy with how her father was progressing. She’d organised a schedule with the twins so between them all he was never alone in the house. He’d managed to organise a staggered return to work in four weeks and she’d made sure she was rostered on the same days as him to ensure he wasn’t overdoing it.

  ‘What you watching, Dad?’ she asked as she plonked herself down next to him on the couch. She realised as she did so she hadn’t thought about what had nearly happened on it for what seemed like ages. The whole incident with Lawson might have been a million years ago now.

  Bob looked down at his daughter. ‘A documentary on the life cycle of the silkworm.’

  Vic nodded enthusiastically even though the thought of watching another doco was enough to make her scream. But they were her father’s favourite and she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible so silkworms it was. ‘Sounds great.’

  Bob frowned, grabbed the remote and muted the television. ‘Victoria Dunleavy, for goodness’ sake, get out of this house. It’s your day off and you’ve been hanging around me like a blowfly all day. It’s Saturday night. You’re young. Go join the crew at the pub. Or meet a friend. I’m fine.’

  ‘Dad, it’s okay. I want to spend time with you.’

  Bob ignored her and reached into his pocket for his mobile phone. ‘What’s Brenda’s number.’

  Vic grabbed the phone. ‘I don’t need you to make a play date for me.’

  ‘Then go,’ he said. ‘Quick sticks. Get on your glad rags. Go have some fun. Ryan and Josh are both here.’

  Vic wavered. It had been a while since she’d been out for anything other than work and she was starting to get a little cabin fever.

  Bob could see her weakening. ‘Please, sweetie, I hate seeing you lock yourself away in here. I worry about you.’

  Vic started. The last thing she wanted was her father fretting about her. He was supposed to be having a stress-free recovery—the fact that she’d delayed her trip had already caused him undue anxiety; she certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any more.

  ‘All right,’ she conceded, rolling her eyes and kissing his cheek. ‘If it means that much to you.’

  Bob grinned. ‘Atta girl.’

  There were two drinking holes on the island—the upmarket Beach Hut, also known as the club, and the Brindabella Pub. The club boasted cover bands on a Saturday night, a dance floor and expensive cocktails.

  The pub, on the other hand, had cheaper drinks but the ambience was slightly less lacking. It was also the place she’d often spend a working Saturday night, treating the victims of bar brawls. Generally it wasn’t the place she chose to go to relax.

  Vic entered the Beach Hut a little after eight. There were two bars in the club. One near the dance floor, which was rocking at the moment, and the other out the back servicing a large lounge area dominated by floor-to-ceiling windows affording striking views of the beach just across the road.

  She approached the quieter one and sat at a stool. She looked around while she waited for the bartender and was surprised to see Lawson sitting at the other end.

  Their gazes met and he sent her a mock salute before picking up his beer and moving towards her.

  ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ he said as he sat on the stool beside her.

  Vic smiled. It was nice to hear him joke. The stuff with her father seemed to have wiped out all their recent baggage and it was
nice to feel back on an even footing with him. Of course, she’d always have that crush, but she was done beating her head against the wall.

  ‘My father ordered me out of the house.’

  ‘Ah.’ Lawson nodded. The bartender approached. ‘What can I get you?’

  Vic thought for a moment. ‘A chocolate martini.’

  Lawson screwed up his face. ‘What the hell is a chocolate martini?’

  ‘Two of my favourite things—vodka and chocolate. It’s like dessert you can drink with a straw.’

  Lawson raised an eyebrow. ‘If you say so.’ He ordered the drink and they both watched as the bartender made it in front of them.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s Saturday night. I joined the guys for drinks. They left to go into a bar in Brisbane. I was just finishing up.’

  ‘I didn’t think you went to the club nights.’

  Lawson shrugged. ‘I don’t. Not usually. But Matilda’s at a sleepover and I felt at a bit of a loose end.’

  Vic nodded. She knew how he felt. The bartender placed the drink in front of her and she dipped her head to take a sip from the straw. ‘Hmm.’ She shut her eyes and savoured the alcohol-laced chocolate. ‘You should try this.’ She held it up to him.

  Lawson looked at the lipstick-coated straw and felt a little pull in his groin. Drinking from it seemed intimate. And he wasn’t about to cross any more lines with her. Especially with alcohol involved. ‘Thanks. Think I’ll pass.’

  Vic shrugged. ‘More for me.’

  Behind the bartender large porthole-style windows gave glimpses of the beach and they watched the waves roll in as they chatted about Bob and other neutral topics as they sipped at their drinks.

  Lawson drained his beer glass. ‘You meeting some friends? Going to do some dancing?’ Maybe she was meeting a guy?

  Vic shrugged. ‘I was going to see if I knew anyone. Maybe have a couple of dances. But this band’s not very good, is it?’

  Lawson smiled. ‘I thought it was just me.’

  Vic laughed. ‘You know what I’d really like to do?’

  Lawson looked at her warily. ‘What?’

  She nodded in the direction of the window. ‘I feel like walking on the beach. You wanna come?’

  Lawson looked at the sandy vista and felt a tug at his soul. There was a three-quarter moon caressing the beach with milky fingers and it called to his inner restlessness. Except it screamed bad idea. His strange jumbled-up attraction had been put on ice the last couple of weeks, but he didn’t trust how quickly a tropical moon might melt it away. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Vic nodded. She was disappointed. But it was probably for the best. ‘That’s fine. Think I will, though.’ And she slipped off her chair. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

  He watched her hips sway in the black dress she wore that seemed to tie in a bow at the back. Her auburn hair swung loose, brushing her shoulders, and she looked small and very feminine as she walked away.

  He sighed. He couldn’t let her walk on the beach by herself. The island was a pretty safe place and he knew she had no fear about anything bad happening to her. She’d grown up here. She practically knew everyone. But assaults had been known to happen and he’d hate for anything to befall her.

  ‘Wait up,’ he called as he slid off his stool and headed in her direction.

  Chapter Eight

  A STIFF breeze caressed her face, blowing her hair back as Vic kicked off her strappy heels. She jumped down onto the soft sand, eager to feel the crunch of it against her soles. Huge rollers broke the surface of the ocean, curling towards the beach and dumping against the shoreline with crashing precision, and Vic felt them reverberate through her cells.

  She looked behind her and watched as Lawson kicked his shoes off. Whether it was the incandescence of the moonlight or his greater elevation, his shoulders seemed broader, his legs longer. Her fingers itched to feel the fabric of his shirt beneath them, her dreams haunted by the swell of muscle beneath crisp cotton.

  ‘Come on, slow poke,’ she called as she set off without him. The tide was out and she walked towards it, suddenly impatient to get her bare feet in the Pacific Ocean.

  Lawson shook his head, wondering why the hell he was here putting temptation firmly in his path. Bob’s heart attack had relegated his attraction to the back burner, but with her hips swinging in front of him it brought it all crashing back.

  He should leave now. While his sanity was still intact. But something, maybe the moonlight, maybe the fact that he’d missed their old dynamic and it finally seemed normal between them, egged him on.

  ‘Do you have some direction in mind?’ Lawson mused as he caught up with her. ‘Or are we just going to wander aimlessly?’

  Vic grinned. ‘I thought we’d paddle along the edge for a while and end up at the rocks.’ She pointed to the rocky outcrop a couple of kilometres away.

  They walked side by side for a while without talking, letting the water lap around their ankles as it followed its age-old rhythm. Vic yearned to slip her hand into his but was too frightened he’d reject her again and break the ease they were sharing, so she contented herself with the occasional arm brush.

  The water felt cool between her toes, the sand squelching and grainy. She inhaled deeply. ‘I am going to miss this.’

  Lawson waited a beat or two. ‘They do have oceans in England,’ he teased. ‘Like us, they’re an island.’

  Vic shoved him with her shoulder. ‘Yes, but they don’t have the mighty Pacific lapping their shores, do they?’

  Lawson turned to face the force of nature before him. The night was reasonably cloudless and the moon shimmered across the surface. ‘No. That’s true.’

  Vic shook her head. ‘Just think. I’ve never known another ocean. I’m twenty-six and the Pacific’s all I’ve ever known.’

  Lawson started to walk again. ‘You wait till you see the Mediterranean. It’s…I don’t know if there are words for it. It’s calm…not like this. And the most incredible blue. Like uncut sapphires. And then the sun sparkles on it and it’s like the Crown jewels.’

  Vic inspected his profile. It’d become quite expressive as he grappled with finding the exact description. It should have inspired in her a lust to see it. To dabble her toes, to witness its glory. But it didn’t.

  He turned to her. ‘Italy is amazing. You have to go there. Venice is a must.’ He turned to her. ‘Promise me you’ll go to Venice.’

  She looked up into his face. His eyes were in shadow and hard to read. Wind whipped stray hair across her face. ‘I promise,’ she whispered. Even though the thought of going there alone had no appeal.

  Lawson nodded and moved on, his feet dragging through the shallows, sand gritty and viscous between his toes.

  ‘I’m glad you’re still going,’ he said after they’d walked some more. He was, really. ‘Your dad’s been worried you’ll decide to stay. He wanted me to talk to you about it.’

  Vic stopped in his tracks. ‘Did he…did he set us up tonight?’

  Lawson laughed and continued walking. ‘If you’re asking me did I know you were going to show up tonight, then the answer’s no.’ He looked behind him. She was standing with her hands on her hips like a petulant child. He turned so he was facing her, walking backwards. ‘Did your father know I was going to be at the club? Yes.’

  Vic shook his head. ‘That wily old…’

  Lawson laughed. ‘Yes. I don’t think his down time affected his brain any.’ And then he turned back so he was facing the way he was walking and trudged on.

  Vic caught him up. ‘I am going, Lawson. But…’

  He looked down at her. She was looking at her feet, her face screwed up, her cute cherubic cheeks pronounced. ‘But?’

  ‘It’s complicated. I can’t just leave when he’s had a major heart attack. And what if—?’

  Lawson waited a beat. ‘What if what?’

  ‘What if I’m gone for two months and get a phone call in the m
iddle of the night to say he’s had another one? A massive one. One he…’

  The ocean beat against the shore as she grappled with the unthinkable. One wave. Two. Three. It was too hard to say. To give voice to. She stopped, her feet sinking as the waves eroded the sand around them. She took a deep breath. ‘Couldn’t be revived from?’

  Lawson stopped too, feeling her pain. Bob Dunleavy was like a father to him. The old man had taught him respect and hard work. He’d shown him the difference between going through the motions and getting invested. He’d turned him from the punk he’d been to the man he was today. ‘I’ll watch out for him, Victoria.’

  She felt tears prick her eyes. ‘You have Matilda, Lawson. You have other priorities.’

  He grabbed her hands. ‘If Matilda and I have to move in with him, I will watch over your father. Like he did for me when I was a rookie. I promise.’

  Vic felt a wave of emotion swell in her chest. It built like the breakers crashing against the shore until it clogged her eyes and choked her throat. Before she could stop herself she snaked her arms around his neck, raised herself on her tippy-toes and pressed her mouth to his.

  It was a kiss of gratitude. Of thanks. She felt his resistance, his mouth closed. But then, like the push and pull of the tide, his hands travelled up her back and pulled her closer and the kiss took on a life of its own. The waves crashed around them as the kiss deepened and she clung to his shoulders, opening her mouth to him, baring her soul. His tongue stroked against hers and she felt a heat spread from deep inside her to the tips of her toes.

  Lawson wrenched his mouth away, his breathing ragged, his head spinning. He looked at her for a long time, his hands gripping her upper arms. ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Because you know how to say the right thing at exactly the right moment. And because I’m tired of pretending I’m not attracted to you and we didn’t nearly have sex on my couch.’

  Lawson’s fingers tightened around her arm. The fantasy of throwing her against the sand and having their own From Here to Eternity moment warring with his responsibilities. Warring with his innate sense of propriety. ‘We should go.’