The Surgeon's Doorstep Baby (13 page)

‘Blake, these last weeks have been...stunning. For both of us. You’ve taken responsibility for your sister’s baby. You’ve been immersed in my family up to your ears. You’ve been hauled out of your life as an independent city surgeon, engaged—all right,’ she added hastily as she saw his face—’partnered by a colleague you’ve been with for years. You’ve come back to a place that’s filled with emotion for you and I’ve thrown more at you. You’ve saved my brother’s life and you’ve saved mine.

‘That’s an awesome amount of emotion to jam into three weeks. Do you think I should ask you to commit for the rest of your life on the strength of it? It’s been a crazy, roller-coaster ride, Blake. Now you need to get off the roller-coaster, settle, figure where you want to take things with Ruby and go from there.’

‘I need you, Maggie,’ he said, surely and steadily. ‘Yes, it’s only three weeks but when I thought I could lose you...’ He broke off and he knew she could hear the power of what he’d gone through.

At the base of a cliff. Watching the swelling...

It still made him feel ill, but it wasn’t helping his cause.

‘I never knew what love was,’ he said simply. ‘Until I thought I’d lost you. If love is needing, like needing a part of me...’

‘But I’m not needful, Blake,’ she said, calmly and steadily. ‘I’m grateful—you can’t imagine how grateful I am, but I won’t marry you because I need you. Even if...even if your need is love. I’ve fallen for you, hard, but I’m seeing you as a guy who’s taken on his baby niece, who helped me save Christopher and Pete, who saved me. And, yes, who needs me. But that’s not a basis for a marriage.’

‘No, but love is. Surely the two combine. Maggie, I’ve thought it out. We could organise things... I could work a couple of days in Sydney a week and spend the rest of the time here. We could fill the house with kids. They could come and go as they pleased, back and forth to your mother, back and forth to us. You’d be there whenever they need you. Ruby would have a mother...’

It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it as he saw her expression change. He had this all wrong.

This was not a sure and loving Maggie. This was still a trapped Maggie.

‘I would be,’ she whispered. ‘Ruby’s twisting herself around my heart already. But it’s not fair.’

‘Fair?’

‘My heart’s already so twisted,’ she said. ‘From the time I can first remember. “Maggie, push your brother’s pram, he’s crying. Maggie, your little sister’s wet. Maggie, sleep with Liselle, she’s having nightmares. Maggie, you need to stay home from school this week, Donny’s got measles.” And I did it. Every single time, I did it—how could I not? Because I loved them. I love them. And here you are, asking me to love...more.’

‘You don’t want...’

‘Of course I want,’ she said, and she tilted her chin and looked at him—really looked at him. ‘I’m falling so hard. If you took me into your arms right now...’ But she put up her hands as if to ward him off. ‘But I don’t want you to.

‘Really?

‘I don’t know,’ she said, and she didn’t sound sure any more. She sounded...scared. Desolate. ‘Blake, I don’t know. All I do know is that I’m not game to try. I’d marry you and it’d be gorgeous and the whole valley would be happy for me. The kids would be beside themselves and it’d solve all your problems and I’d end up loving Ruby to bits... And one day I might wake up and think, What did I collect all those tin cans for?’

‘We could travel,’ he said, slowly, trying to sound confident. Trying to sound like he thought her qualms were minor. ‘Together.’

‘But I’ve had...
together
,’ she said, and she flinched as she said it. ‘I know. That sounds appalling when I say I’m falling in love with you in the same breath, but I’ve never had anything but together. You’ve come here for three weeks, you’ve walked straight into my together and you think it’s magic. But you’ve had, what, thirty-six years of You. I’ve never had Me and I want it. I want to learn Me.’

She shook her head then, falling silent. He watched her, quiet and still, knowing the time for argument was not now. Knowing that pushing her now would do his cause no good—would even do harm. Knowing he had to let her be.

‘Blake, I’m scared,’ she whispered. ‘I’m terrified I’ll wake up in ten years surrounded by more kids and more dogs and more drama, and I’ll resent it all and become a bitter old lady who snaps at kids and locks herself in the bathroom and sulks...’

‘The bathroom?’ he said faintly.

‘It’s the only place I can ever get away,’ she said. ‘And even then they bang on the door. “Maggie, hurry up, I need a note for school. Maggie, I need to tell you about my boyfriend. Maggie, if this pimple doesn’t go down I’ll die.” And don’t you dare laugh, Blake Samford.’

‘I won’t laugh. I’ve told you before, I’d never laugh at you, Maggie.’

‘And don’t be gorgeous either,’ she managed, trying to glare, only her eyes were filling. She swiped away tears with anger and the desire to gather her in his arms was overwhelming. He didn’t. He was proud of himself that he didn’t, but it nearly killed him.

‘So, what,’ he said at last. ‘Back to the seven-year plan, huh?’

‘I... Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s better than nothing.’

‘I’m better than nothing.’

‘Yes, you are,’ she said, controlling herself again. Taking a deep breath and moving on. ‘But you deserve something more than a woman who’s scared that marriage might seem a trap.’

‘I’d never marry you if you felt like that.’

‘Well, then,’ she said, and rose and looked down at her packed duffel bag. At her hospital room crowded with flowers from almost everyone in the valley. At him.

‘Well, then,’ she said again. ‘It’s time to go home. Time for you to go back to Sydney. Time for me to find another place to live.

‘I’m not selling the farm, Maggie.’

‘You’re not?’

‘There’s not a thing you can do about that,’ he told her. ‘I’ve fallen for the farm as well.’

‘You’re not...going to live there?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t do that to myself. To live next door to you...’

‘You’ll take Ruby back to Sydney?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you cope?’

‘I believe I can,’ he said, and managed a grin. ‘Without calling on Maggie. But, Maggie...’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m not moving out of your life. Not entirely. I’m your landlord and I’ll need to check the farm out from time to time. As well as that, the kids have done some heart twisting as well. I’ve promised Pete I’ll take him to Sydney and get him some driving lessons as soon as he turns sixteen. I’d like to organise an online tutor for Liselle and her calculus.’

‘There’s no need—’

‘There is a need,’ he said softly. ‘Just because you can’t marry me it doesn’t mean I can stop caring.’

‘You...understand.’

‘Yes, I do,’ he said with a heavy heart, and he did. ‘I wish I didn’t, but I do. I wish... I wish...’ He hesitated and then he shrugged. ‘I’m not sure what I wish,’ he told her, and he lifted her duffel with one hand and took her hand in the other. ‘But let’s take you home, and let’s get on with our lives while I figure it out.’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

C
HRISTMAS
at the
Tildens’ was always crazy. Everyone was home, and the tiny house was bursting at the seams.

‘Let’s have Christmas at Blake’s,’ Liselle had pleaded. ‘It’s huge and Blake won’t mind.’

He wouldn’t mind, Maggie thought. He’d been a constant presence in the kids’ lives for six months now and they regarded him more as a benevolent uncle than as Maggie’s landlord.

He’d only visited twice, flying visits to install a new farm manager—Harold was too old and Blake didn’t want Maggie responsible for his cattle—and to check for himself that Pete’s leg was healing as he thought it should.

They’d been fast trips and he hadn’t brought Ruby. ‘I have a fabulous housekeeper-nanny,’ he told Maggie. ‘And I’ve given up the job as Head of Orthopaedics. I’m an Indian rather than a chief now, but it means I spend more time with my little girl.’

He’d brought photographs and he showed them to her with pride, but he made no mention of marriage, no mention that he wasn’t coping without her, no mention that she’d made the wrong decision.

She hadn’t, she told herself over and over, but the kids had his number on speed dial, she heard them chatting to him about trivial stuff, and she felt...jealous?

Ridiculous.

But he was a friend. The boys took their troubles to Blake now, and for that she was grateful.

Liselle got first-class honours in her calculus. ‘Blake thinks I can be a doctor,’ she’d told Maggie, almost bursting with pride. ‘He’s going to help me.’

Somehow he’d inveigled himself into their lives and she loved him for it.

But not enough?

Not enough to want Christmas at his house. Not enough to think she’d made a mistake.

Now she woke up on Christmas morning and for about the thousandth time since he’d left she thought of him straight away.

She was back at her mother’s house. She was sharing a bed with Susie. Liselle was in the bed beside them. Blackie and Tip were under the bed. All her brothers and sisters were home.

She was surrounded, just like always. Any minute now she’d get up and stuff the turkey. Her mother would waft out for present giving and set up candles on the table or make a new cocktail. Her father might drop in later with the pregnant Sashabelle. Expecting gifts. Not giving any.

But things were easing. Donny had finished his apprenticeship and Nickie had graduated and was choosing between three excellent job offers. Two down, six to go.

Six years left?

To what? Kir on the Left Bank of Paris.

It was losing its gloss.

I’m turning sour already, she thought, and decided, Turkey. She tossed back the covers—and paused.

She’d heard a truck approaching—or trucks? They stopped, just outside the house.

As her feet touched the bare wooden floor there was an enormous whine, like the tray on a truck heaving upwards...

And then a crash that had her jumping out of her skin. That had Liselle and Susie sitting bolt upright in bed and the dogs going out of their minds.

Another crash, bigger than the first.

Amazingly Susie was giggling, whooping, heading for the door. And then she looked back as if she’d forgotten something important. She grabbed an envelope from under the pillow.

‘Blake said to give you this,’ she said importantly. ‘But I have to get mine to put on top.’ She dived under the bed and hauled out a huge plastic bag filled with...cans. Empty drink cans.

‘And me,’ Liselle said sleepily. ‘Mine are in the wardrobe. Open it, Susie, love.’

Susie obligingly opened the wardrobe—and let loose a cascade of cans.

‘They’re from the whole of Corella Valley High,’ Louise said proudly. ‘Six months’ collecting.’

The door opened. The rest of her family was crowding in the doorway.

‘Here’s ours,’ they told her, and they were practically buried in cans.

‘What...? What...?’

‘I’ve got some, too.’ It was her mother, holding two small bags of cans like they were diamonds. ‘I had to change drinking bottled tonic to canned tonic, just for you, love. But it was worth it. You’re a good girl, Maggie.’

‘But it’s mostly from Blake. It’s Blake’s present.’ Christopher was practically bouncing with excitement. ‘Come and see, come and see, come and see.’

So she went, pushing through a sea of cans, still clutching her unopened envelope.

Peter had the front door wide, and his beam was almost wider. ‘How cool is this?’ he demanded. ‘Blake says these are from the whole of Sydney Central Hospital for six months. And it’s every single person in the valley. And Donny’s garage and our school and university, and Blake says we have enough for at least six months...’

‘Shush,’ Susie said, bossy and exasperated. ‘She hasn’t read the letter.’

She wasn’t looking at the letter. She was looking at a mountain. Cans, cans and more cans. The entire yard was buried under drink cans.

‘Two shipping containers,’ Pete said, awed. ‘Two full shipping containers, plus what we’ve got. You have no idea, Maggie...’

‘Blake...’ she breathed.

‘Read the letter,’ Susie demanded, and finally the little girl lost patience with her big sister, ripped it open, stood in front of her and read out loud.

‘“Darling Maggie...”
. Oooer, darling...’

‘Cut it out,’ Louise snapped. ‘Read it like it is.’

Susie glowered and then grinned and read.

‘“Darling Maggie. Seven years is too long. Anything could happen in seven years. They could stop serving kir on the Left Bank. The pyramids might erode. I could wear out waiting. So here’s an alternative. We’ve weighed our cans and we figure they’re good for six months’ travel. On your own. With what you already have, plus the extras the kids have found since we weighed them, we reckon you can go and see whatever you want in the world. But before you start objecting, you need to listen to the rest of the plan...”’

‘I don’t need to read this,’ Susie said. ‘I know.’

‘Blake’s taking six months’ leave,’ Liselle said. ‘It’s paternity leave ’cos he’s formally adopting Ruby.’

‘And he’s staying at Corella View,’ Pete said. ‘And he’s going to teach me cool driving stuff.’

‘And we can stay here with Mum or we can stay with him if Mum gets sick of us,’ Chris added, with a sideways glance at his mother.

‘And Ronnie’s promised to look after Ruby if Blake starts feeling...house...house...’

‘Housebound,’ Louise finished for her. ‘But us older ones are planning on coming home often as well. You’ve done so much for us, Maggie.’

‘And Blake and Ronnie have organised you time off work,’ Pete added.

‘And Blake says he can get you a passport really fast. He says you should go to Africa first ’cos it’ll be cold in Europe in winter. But he says it’s up to you.’

‘Blake...’ she managed again.

‘A million cans,’ her mother said. ‘All over my front lawn. I’ll give him such a talking to when I see him next.’

‘Which would be now,’ a low voice said, and she whirled and it was Blake. He was standing on the veranda. Watching. Listening.

He was dressed even more casually than the day she’d first seen him. Faded jeans. A checked, open-necked shirt. Boots. He looked like a farmer rather than a city surgeon.

He was holding Ruby.

Cattleman with baby?

He looked so sexy he made her toes curl.

‘You’re free,’ he said, softly, firmly, lovingly. ‘Maggie Tilden, your seven-year plan just turned into now. We’ve all done it. We love you, Maggie, and we’re sending you away.’

‘But you’ll come back?’ Susie asked, suddenly anxious. ‘Maggie, you won’t forget us? You’ll come home?’

Blake was smiling at her. Smiling and smiling. Her heart was turning somersaults, backward flips, any gymnastic manoeuvre it could think of. All at once.

She wished she wasn’t wearing pyjamas. She wished she wasn’t surrounded by family. She wished she wasn’t surrounded by thousands of tin cans.

No, she didn’t. She wished for none of those things because for now, for this moment, there was only this man, only this moment, this smile.

Blake.

‘You did all this,’ she managed.

‘Six months’ scrounging,’ he said, and chuckled. ‘I owe favours to every janitor in Sydney.’

‘The kids...’

‘Scrounged like champions. See, we all want to get rid of you. Mostly because we figure...if we set you free, you’ll fly home.’

‘Like a pigeon.’

‘I prefer dove,’ he said comfortably. ‘A lovely, loving white dove. Liselle, do you think you might take Ruby for a moment? I can’t see any mistletoe but I’m sure there’s some around here somewhere. I need to kiss your sister goodbye.’

‘Goodbye...’

‘With no promises,’ he said, as he headed along the veranda to where she was standing, barefooted in her pyjamas, tousled with sleep. As he gathered her into his arms and held her. Just held her. Asking for no promises. Placing no expectations on her.

‘We’re giving you yourself back, Maggie, love,’ he told her. ‘We’re giving you the world in the shape of a mountain of tin cans. And if you can see your way to steering this way at the end of your adventures...’

‘Kiss her now,’ Donny yelled. ‘Go on, mate, get it over with.’

‘No pressure,’ Blake said, and his dark eyes gleamed down into hers. ‘No pressure, Maggie, love, but if you could possibly tilt your chin...’

She did. How could a girl not?

How could a woman not kiss a man who was giving her the world?

Who wasn’t asking her to marry him.

Who was setting her free.

* * *

She watched giraffes sway majestically across the African savannah. She woke under canvas and in the dawn she heard lions roaring. She had to shoo monkeys from her breakfast. She wrote to Blake about it.

He sent photos back of Ruby and told her how his work was going and talked to her about a new breed of cattle he thought he might introduce to the farm.

She took camel rides around the pyramids. A kid photographed her for money and she emailed the snap home.

Blake sent a snap of himself riding a horse he’d bought. It seemed Liselle was teaching him how to ride.

She watched funeral pyres beside the Ganges and wondered how she could describe the smell, the sights to Blake. She wandered from street stall to street stall and she didn’t get sick once. Blake sounded almost irritated. ‘Everyone gets sick—what’s your stomach made of?’

He sent advice on hygiene and links to sites on intestinal worms. She laughed but he also sent a picture of him at a staff dinner at Corella Hospital and she looked at Mary standing beside him and she thought...she thought...

No. She wouldn’t think. She was free.

She walked the Great Wall in China—okay, not all of it but enough to get sore feet—and she gazed at the hidden warriors with awe and gratitude that she could be in this place at this time.

Blake had seen them, too. She wished...

No, she couldn’t wish, for who could wish for more than she’d dreamed of?

She drank Guinness in fabulous Irish pubs. She checked out some ancestors and decided she liked being a little bit Irish.

Blake told her about how Mary had been to Ireland last year and researched all her Irish ancestors.

She was interested—sort of. She liked Mary. Mary was a friend.

Why the niggle?

She dived from a caique into the turquoise waters off a Greek isle. She got sunburned, but she didn’t tell Blake because he’d lecture her and she liked being free to get sunburned or not. Didn’t she?

She wandered the bazaars in Istanbul, Cairo, Morocco. She looked, she tasted, she smelled and she listened. She drank kir on the Left Bank in Paris. She looked and looked and looked and she felt and felt and felt.

And she tried not to wish for more.

Every night she went back to her hotel room or her tent or yurt, or whatever weird and wonderful place she was staying in and she used the fantastic satellite internet Blake had organised for her and she contacted home.

She told the kids what she’d done that day. Sometimes they were interested. Mostly they were more interested in telling her the things that were happening to them.

And almost every night she talked to Blake, who was interested in her. Who asked the right questions. Who got it that she’d been disappointed in kir. Who grinned when she said the Eiffel tower was just too high and she’d taken the lift. Who agreed that seal colonies stank.

Who showed her pictures of a happy, bouncing, healing Ruby with pride, who explained that her legs were almost in line now, and she was sitting up, and teething. Who talked about the valley with love and with pride. Who spoke of the people he was meeting, of Ronnie, who was awesome at helping, and Mary, who was such a friend...

He smiled at her and said goodnight—even when it was morning his time—and he sent her to sleep happy. Or happyish. For the longer she was away, the more she thought. She was living a dream but what if, in following her dream, she was letting another go?

What if she’d made a mistake?

She hadn’t. She knew she’d made the right decision. She loved what she was doing and she embraced it with all her heart, but the heart swelled to fit all comers and there was a corner...a Blake corner...

Please, her heart whispered. Please...

And six months later she walked through the customs gates at Sydney airport, feeling jet-lagged, feeling weird, feeling hopeful but almost afraid to hope...

Blake was there.

All by himself.

No kids. No Ruby.

No Mary.

Just Blake.

‘My love,’ he said as she reached him, and he held out his arms.

She walked right into them. He folded her against his heart, and she stayed there for a very long time.

* * *

He’d organised things so Ronnie was with Ruby, so they had the night in Sydney to themselves.

He took her back to his new little bachelor-nursery pad near the hospital and he made her dinner while she spent half an hour under streaming-hot water and washed every part of her. She dressed in jogging pants and a windcheater because she had nothing else clean. Most of her luggage was still in the back of Blake’s car, ready to be taken to Corella Valley the next day. She’d kept only her overnight bag. She should have kept something special aside, she thought ruefully. A little black dress?