Kitabı oku: «Midwives On Call At Christmas», sayfa 5
She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone do that. Imagine if Simon did that for her? Her whole world would gain another dimension, and then she stopped herself. Smacked herself mentally. He was just a nice guy. A nice guy who seemed to like kissing her?
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FOLLOWING SATURDAY was Tara’s birthday. She hadn’t mentioned it, so he hadn’t, but he’d quietly arranged a cake at the place where they were going to breakfast after the jump.
He’d learnt something as a brother of four plus two sisters. Women loved surprises.
He didn’t even know why he was looking forward to Tara’s adventure when he hated the whole concept of risk, except now he wouldn’t miss it because it involved Tara. He hoped he wasn’t getting too caught up in the whole Tara fantasy. It wasn’t like it was a date.
She’d started off quiet, and he’d wondered if she was sorry she’d asked him. In truth, the discussion had been before he’d kissed her, but then as they drew closer to the jump zone she became more animated.
He glanced across at her face, eyes shining, a huge grin on her face, and she squirmed in her seat like the kid she’d never had the chance to be. This was a whole new side to the woman he considered the most self-sufficient young woman he’d met, and he savoured her little bursts of conversation in a new way from his previous lady friends.
She had her own ideas, often contrary to his, on work, on politics, on sport even, but was always willing to listen to another point of view.
He’d rarely enjoyed a conversation so much. He could have driven all day with her beside him instead of doing what he’d come to do. Watch Tara jump out of a plane.
When they arrived Simon followed Tara from his car and almost had to run to keep up. Now, that was what he called eagerness to embrace the experience. He might even be starting to get her interest, even if he didn’t share it.
He’d read the skydiving webpage when he hadn’t been able to sleep last night. It had been intriguing with the way they mentioned ‘changing your life with a jump’, though he couldn’t see how Tara’s life needed changing in that way. She was the most centred person he knew to be around.
Apparently, sky-diving freed you of the minutiae of the everyday that could cloud the joys of living.
Okay, rave on, yet the expression had resonated with him and made him wonder with a startling moment of clarity if that was what he did.
He organised and pre-planned as much as he could, as if he could keep all the facets of his world—in his mind he could picture pregnant Maeve, so that included his sisters—in order and safe from the possibility of harm.
He glanced up as another plane droned overhead into a scatter of puffy clouds in the blue sky. Safe from harm? Well, that went out the window with skydiving. Literally.
Simon shrugged and guessed he could imagine the small stuff didn’t matter when you were hurtling at two hundred kilometres an hour through those clouds before your parachute opened. If it opened. He shuddered and increased his pace.
Inside the flimsy building—how much money did they spend on this operation anyway, and just how safe were they?—Simon’s gaze travelled around suspiciously until he realised what he was doing and pulled himself up. Tara would be saying he could draw bad luck with negative thoughts, and despite his scepticism he refocussed on the woman he’d brought here, and just looking at her made his mind settle.
She was grinning like there was no tomorrow. He jerked his thoughts away from that one as she beckoned him over.
‘Simon?’
Her expression puzzled him—eager, mischievous, with just a touch of wariness. ‘They could squeeze you in if you wanted to change your mind.’
‘And you’re telling me this because?’
Her eyes glowed with excitement and for a minute there he wanted to take her outside this building and back her up against a tree and kiss the living daylights out of her. Then she said, ‘Why don’t you jump with me? Do it spontaneously.’
He blinked. One pleasant picture replaced with another he didn’t fancy. ‘Like spontaneous combustion. One whoosh and I’m gone?’ She was dreaming. ‘Then who would do all the things I do?’
Her voice lowered and she came closer until suddenly there seemed only two of them in the room. ‘Stop thinking about everyone else for a minute. Do it for yourself. Be irresponsible for once and find out what it feels like. Change your life.’
There’s nothing wrong with my life, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Just stared into those emerald-green eyes that burned with the passion of a zealot. The woman was mad. ‘Nope. But thank you. You go ahead and have your instructions for insanity and I will arrange breakfast for afterwards when you land on the beach.’
‘They say it’s the closest you’ll ever get to flying on your own.’
‘I read that.’ He’d actually done a bit of almost-flying when he’d kissed a certain someone the other day. He was barely listening as he soaked in her features. How could he have ever thought this woman was average?
She looked at him for a moment and then leant forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. ‘Okay.’
Then she was gone, leaving an echo of her scent and the softness of her mouth that vibrated quietly in the back of his mind and all the way down to his toes. And a tiny insidious voice poked him with a thought. Imagine if it did change the way you lived. Not his work but his private life.
His lack of trust in relationships. The business of assembling scenarios so he could be sure he had all his bases covered. The worry about minutiae, like it said in the brochure. Possibly left over from the time he’d realised his own father had been totally unaware of him—when he should have checked if he had a son!
No way. He shut the thought down. Not today. But unconsciously, as he leant against the wall and watched her follow the instructions of Lawrence, her ‘chute buddy’ coach, he paid more attention as they prepared her for the way she left the aircraft and the way she had to bend her legs and point her toes as they landed.
He watched her tilt her head back, exposing her gorgeous tanned throat. Apparently that was so when you hurtled out of the plane your head didn’t slam backwards and knock out the person who was going to pull the ripcord. Good choice. Tilt head. He could just imagine her. Wished he could see her do it. He grinned and looked away. No, he didn’t. At least he was calmer than he’d thought he’d be, watching all this.
Simon glanced at the cost of the extravagant packages that could come with the jump and doubted she had enough for the whole experience to be filmed, captured in photographs as well and saved in a bound volume. He wandered discreetly over to the sales desk, enquired, and hoped like hell she wouldn’t mind if he paid for the video/album package to arrive in the mail. He ensured Lawrence switched on his high-definition camera. It was the next best thing to being a fly on the wall without having to actually be there. And she’d have a permanent memento of the event.
She hopefully wouldn’t take it up full time if she loved it. Simon found himself smiling as he drifted back to the doorway, where he leaned while he waited for her to finish her induction.
Then it was time for her to go. Go as in jump.
Tara bounced across the room with her harness all strapped between her legs and over her shoulders. Plastic wind protection goggles sat on top of her head and she radiated suppressed excitement like a beacon in a storm.
The two other people in her group seemed to radiate less exuberant anticipation. Right there with you, buddy, Simon thought with some amusement, and appreciated again that Tara did bring a sparkle into his day. As long as she didn’t want him to join her he was quite happy to stand on the sidelines and enjoy the show.
Tara barely felt her feet on the floor. She couldn’t wait for that moment when they tumbled out. She glanced back at her older instructor who carried the chute that would float them to the ground again and wanted to hug herself with excitement. Or have Simon hug her.
She glanced at Simon, who watched her with a whimsical expression on his face. It was so cool he’d come with her. Even if he didn’t want to jump, and it had been a pretty big spur-of-the-moment ask, he still looked fairly happy. She’d been a little afraid of that. That he’d radiate stress vibes and doomsday foreboding but he’d surprised her with how calmly he was taking it and how supportive he was.
She had an epiphany that maybe real men didn’t have to do crazy things to be in tune with her. Look at her last man. He’d been crazy and had turned out to be a loser of the highest order so maybe the opposite worked.
She knew for a fact that Simon was far from a loser but she also knew she wasn’t looking long term for someone like him. People like him spent their lives with prim and proper doctors’ wives, not someone who wanted to seek thrills and drift from town to town like her. People like Simon hadn’t been brought up in orphanages and foster-homes.
But you could kiss those people. The ones you weren’t going to marry. It was a shame she’d enjoyed it so much because the idea of kissing Simon again intruded at the wrong times—like that mad moment when she’d asked him to jump and then kissed him.
But she wasn’t worrying about that now and peered ahead to the tarmac where their little plane waited patiently for them. Excitement welled in her throat as they all paused at the gate and the actual jumpers farewelled their ground crew.
‘Good luck. You look beautiful.’ Simon’s words took her by surprise and she could feel the smile as it surged from somewhere in her over-excited belly.
‘Thank you. So do you.’ She grinned at him and he leaned in and kissed her firmly on the lips so that she knew she’d been kissed. For the first time the ground felt a little firmer under her feet and the haze she’d been floating in sharpened to reality. Luckily, that made it even more exciting.
The next fifteen minutes was spent crammed into the plane as they climbed in a slow spiral up to fifteen thousand feet. She sat perched on the lap of her chute buddy and surprisingly time seemed to pass very quickly with the hills towards Lyrebird Lake in the distance and the white sand of the beach underneath them.
They were going to land on the beach below the lighthouse and apparently Simon would already be there with the ground crew waiting for them to land.
Her chute buddy was fun and kept saying how relaxed she looked. But this wasn’t something she was afraid of.
Finally they reached fifteen thousand feet, the roller door slid back along the roof and the cold wind rushed in.
He’d told her it was one degree outside but it would only take thirty seconds to get back to warm air, but she doubted she’d have time to feel temperatures as they hurtled through the clouds.
The boy next to her, now securely strapped to his chute buddy, cast an imploring look at the safety of the plane and then, with one wild-eyed glance at the occupants, disappeared.
‘Let’s go, Tara,’ Lawrence shouted in her ear, and he edged his bottom and Tara as well, balanced on his lap, towards the opening and swung both their legs out until their backs were to the plane. Below them the ocean and the beach curved below under the scattered clouds.
She pushed her head back into Lawrence’s shoulder and then they were out. Wind rushed past their faces, she had a brief glimpse of the plane above them in the sky and then they were facing the ground with the wind rushing into her face and her hands clenched tightly on the chest straps.
Funnily, even in that moment, she could see Simon’s face. She grinned at the image and stared out into the vacant air in front of her. ‘Woo-hoo.’
Simon had watched the plane disappear into the clouds.
Fifteen minutes later he watched the blue parachute as it came into view, imagined the grin on her face, the joy in her eyes and found himself very keen to see her feet touch the ground. Though no doubt she’d be wanting the descent to last for ever.
At the last minute he pulled his phone from his pocket and videoed her landing. She waved as she sailed past, and he chuckled out loud. This had been fun and he’d been dreading it.
She landed smoothly on her bottom with her feet out in front of her, strapped like a little limpet to her chute buddy, and with a couple of snaps of the buckles she was free to stand and twirl around with excitement. He grinned as he watched her.
Later when he took her to the little restaurant on the river for a late breakfast she couldn’t stop talking, reliving the experience, and he watched her shining eyes blink and frown and widen as she told the tale of her tumble from the aircraft, the whoosh of the parachute opening and the moment when she’d seen him watching her land.
Then he watched her eyes widen wistfully when a birthday cake was carried across the room and she glanced behind them to see where it was going. But his breath caught in his throat when he saw her eyes fill with tears when she realised it was hers. What was wrong? Had he done wrong?
He’d upset her and he didn’t know why. ‘It’s yours. For you. Happy birthday, Tara.’
She just sat there staring at the lit candles as they burnt merrily. The candles started melting and began to dribble wax down onto the cake. Spluttered and dripped. Still she didn’t blow them out.
‘Blow them out.’
She looked at him. Her eyes still looked haunted. Then she whispered, ‘Are you sure?’
‘Quick.’
The waitress and chef who had followed the cake out were looking at each other, not sure what was going on, as they waited to sing like they did every time a cake was ordered.
Then she blinked, shook her head and blew them out. Almost defiantly. Certainly with ample power. To her horror, she even blew wax onto the tablecloth. Blushed and glanced at the waitress and her ‘Sorry’ was drowned out by the lusty singing of ‘Happy Birthday’. Then she did cry.
The waitress and the chef bolted back to the kitchen and Simon handed her a napkin. Tara hid her face in it.
‘Don’t ever do that to me again.’
With startling clarity he suspected what was wrong. ‘Have you ever blown candles out on a cake before, Tara?’
She glared at him. ‘Not since I was six. As if you couldn’t tell.’
‘No cakes at the orphanage?’
‘A hundred children would be a cake every three days. I didn’t even know it was my birthday half the time. You couldn’t know—I understand that—but it’s never been a big day for me.’
He didn’t want to think about a hundred kids without birthdays because it hurt all the way down to his toes. ‘So why the parachute jump this year?’
She shrugged. ‘Coincidence and maybe Lyrebird Lake warmth. They had a birthday party for Louisa and it was very cool. Started me thinking about a new life and a celebration that I had control of and wasn’t using.’
‘So a present?’
‘Yep. That’s my present to myself. I can’t really afford it but …’ she shook off the melancholy and gave him a watery smile ‘… it was so worth it.’ She straightened her shoulders. Smiled at him again, though still a little misty-eyed. ‘Thanks for the cake, Simon, and sorry for the drama. It just took me by surprise. I blew some candles out once and they weren’t mine. Got in all sorts of trouble so just had a bit of a time slip there.’
‘Well that cake was a hundred per cent yours and even the singing was good.’
She glanced towards the kitchen with a little embarrassment still on her face. ‘Very good. They must think I’m mad.’
‘I’m sure they’re thinking you must have a very good reason for acting as you did. Or they think I upset you.’
Her first cake with candles? Damn it, he wished he could turn up on her birthday and buy her a cake every year until she was so blasé about it she didn’t notice. Then he listened to the wild thoughts in his head. How had he got to this point?
Because seeing Tara every year for the rest of his life didn’t seem an unreasonable thing. But that was crazy.
After breakfast they went back to check out the beach. Simon kept saying she’d eaten and she wasn’t allowed to swim for an hour but, seriously, she only wanted to splash in the waves anyway.
They stripped down to swimsuits and she kicked a skid of water his way.
After some serious splashing in his direction Simon stopped watching her with a smile on his face and started to chase her. She was pretty fast.
But he was faster. When he caught her and lifted her, spun her, held against his strong broad chest like a prize, it was as exciting as falling through the air this morning.
She’d always watched others do this, dreamt of doing it herself one day with some hero, and now here she was, with this gorgeous guy tossing her around like she was a lightweight as he shuffled on the sand and pretended to throw her into the water. She squeaked in mock terror, feeling like she was in a movie, a fabulous romantic movie, and while she knew it was just that, a fantasy that would stop when the hour or two was up, she was darned well going to enjoy every fabulous second of it.
Plus it was her birthday. She was the birthday girl and Simon would not let her forget it. That was very cool.
Then Simon walked purposefully forward through the knee-high waves until he sank into the surf with her still in his arms and the cold salt water foamed around them. She could feel the core of warmth where their skins still connected and she couldn’t do anything except turn her face to him and lean in for a kiss. A salty, exuberant kiss that was her way of saying thank you.
He must have been waiting because his arms tightened even more firmly around her and the kiss spiralled into a hot, hungry, searing feast of strength and softness and sliding tongues that were as hot as the water was cold around them. She grabbed on tighter and jammed her breasts harder against his chest and they didn’t come up for air until a bigger than normal wave smacked them in the head and they broke apart coughing and spluttering and finally laughing.
Phew. She’d needed that bucket of reality because she’d been getting swept away in the fantasy of it all.
She swam away from him, bobbed with the waves, their feet still touching the golden sand below their toes but rising up and down with the cool green waves as her heart rate slowly began to settle.
This had to be the best birthday ever.
CHAPTER NINE
BACK AT THE manse life carried on as usual. Maeve slowed down even more as her baby grew and weighed her down, but her nausea had eased, although her mood remained sombre. Tara suspected she held unrequited affection for the baby’s father and wondered if maybe someone should try again to contact him by phone. But that was for Maeve and she had enough happening.
Last night another of Tara’s caseload women had had her baby and Tara had been up most of the night, but when she’d woken after lunch she’d felt strangely unsettled so she’d come out to the manger on the front lawn to find her peace.
Everything was so … Christmassy. She felt like a minor character who’d forgotten her lines. Presents were appearing under the tree inside and she’d started to buy little gifts for everyone but lacked the experience to know how much to spend so had gone for quirky.
With combined family enthusiasm Louisa had managed to assemble her Christmas nativity scene on the front lawn. Tara had been surprised that the little straw-filled crib was empty despite the adoring looks and nods from the mechanical Mary, Joseph and the three wise men, until Simon had whispered that baby Jesus would arrive on Christmas morning.
There was something very centred about the anticipation of the baby that appealed to Tara. When she needed to get away to think she ended up on the garden seat that had a clear view of the people and animals in front of the manger. The whole concept of sharing their front lawn with the town took a bit of getting used to so she tried to come when it was deserted.
Those crazy manger animals nodded twenty-four seven and at night floodlights bathed the area.
During the day it wasn’t unusual for children to drop by on the way home from school to check out the display and in the evenings families wandered down and oohed and ahhed and discussed what was new this year.
Angus and Mia had brought back an outdoor train set that ran on solar lights, and it chugged around the lighted Christmas tree on the lawn with pretend presents in the carriages behind. That one was a big hit with the little boys. Tara was secretly very impressed with it too.
Then she noticed Simon coming towards her with a determined stride and her pulse rate jumped at the grin he was sending her way. She’d been busy with her caseload women and hadn’t seen him for more than a few minutes in the last few days since the parachute jump and beach. It was probably for the best because she was taking heed of her sensible side.
‘There’s a parcel for you, Tara.’ He handed her a thick, flat package and she took it and turned it over in her hands but really she was absorbing the vibration between them as Simon sat down. There was a little gap between their bodies and the air seemed to be vibrating in the space. Very unsettling. He nudged her.
‘Go on. Open it.’
Something was going on because there was definite mischief in his eyes as he waited for her to open the parcel.
She glanced down at the address. ‘It’s from the parachuting club.’
‘Let me guess. You’ve become a life member.’
She had to laugh at that. ‘Only if they want a resident midwife—but I don’t imagine there’s a lot of call for parachuting pregnant ladies.’
‘Perhaps not.’ He was still waiting for her to open it obviously.
‘Aren’t you going to leave me in peace?’ She looked across and raised her eyes. ‘Sticky beak?’
‘Yep.’
She smiled and began to ease open the package, careful not to tear any of the envelope.
He huffed out his impatience. But he was pretending. ‘Rip it!’
‘No.’ Shook her head. ‘Envelopes can be re-used. And it’s not like I get many parcels.’
He folded his arms and she could feel his eagerness. She began to suspect what it was. Oh, my. ‘Did you buy me the package, Simon?’
She surprised a look of wariness on his face she hadn’t expected. He didn’t say anything, just waited for her to pull it out.
When she did she couldn’t speak. It was a bound volume of at least a hundred photos from right at the beginning of her instruction session to the moment she actually launched into space and all the way down until they landed. And then she saw the DVD.
She’d seen the camera on Lawrence’s arm but had assumed it was there for safety reasons and had been sort of aware they’d been filming some of the jump. Not the whole lot!
If she thought about it she’d guessed some people might change their mind and buy packages after the jump. She’d lusted after one but had decided it was an expense she hadn’t needed.
And Simon had bought her the full extravaganza. How did she thank him for something so huge—it was too huge—but it wasn’t the sort of gift you could give back and say, You keep it. He just kept taking her breath away.
His voice was worried when she didn’t say anything. ‘Hope that’s okay? I know how independent you are. But I just thought everyone would like to see your adventure too—without having to jump,’ he added hastily. ‘I can afford it, you know.’
‘I guess you can. And it was a lovely thing to do. Probably the loveliest thing anyone has done for me—except maybe the birthday cake the other day.’ She leaned across and kissed his cheek but it was a dutiful kiss. ‘But that’s it. Don’t start buying presents for me, Simon. I move a lot and can’t build up possessions.’ Or unreal expectations.
He shook his head. ‘You don’t have to move a lot.’
He just didn’t get it. The world always moved you on when you started to love a place. ‘Sure. Okay. And thank you.’
She could feel the tears pushing one way as she pushed them back the other but more than that she wanted to look at the pictures and re-immerse herself in the jump so she could forget the look in his eyes. The more she thought about it and the reason Simon had said he’d done it, the more touched she was.
She was an ungrateful wretch with no gift-receiving skills. Where the heck did you get those skills? She leant across and kissed him on the mouth this time. The anticipation was building. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you. It is great.’ She glanced at him under her brows. ‘Wanna look with me?’
He seemed to deflate with relief and she realised he wasn’t as calm as he looked. Maybe Simon was having a hard time dealing with the undercurrents between them too? An intriguing thought that could come back to haunt her.
He slid next to her until their thighs were touching, and she wondered what the passing manger lovers would think about Dr Campbell snuggling up to the midwife, but then she gave up and prepared to open the book. The relief in his face confirmed her suspicion. He’d been worried he’d upset her and she guessed she could get tetchy so he’d been brave to push ahead and buy it. The guy was certainly a keeper. Such a darned shame she couldn’t.
Instead, she opened the album and the first picture captured the day. There she was, the plane disappearing above them, and an expression of sheer exhilaration on her face as they freefell into the clouds. She looked at Simon and there was a look of indulgence on his face that made her pause and then dismiss the ridiculous idea that he might care for her just a little more than she’d thought.
After a hilarious fifteen minutes sitting on the bench, poring over the album, they took the DVD into the house, where they dragged Louisa and Maeve into the lounge room to watch it on the old television.
During the ten-minute DVD Louisa gasped and covered her mouth and even Maeve laughed out loud and expressed her envy that Tara had done something she’d wanted to do. Then it was over and Louisa and Maeve went back to the kitchen and she had to go and check on one of her early labour mums.
‘Thanks again, Simon.’ She’d probably kissed him enough, she admitted with a definite tug of despondency as she turned away. ‘I’d better get going on my home visit.’
Simon nodded and held the door for her and he didn’t lean down enough for her to attempt any sort of cheek-kissing salutation like he did. But he did say, ‘So when are you going to take me on your bike?’
That stopped her. She’d thought it unlikely this conversation would ever come up. And it wasn’t like she could say no now. In fact, she owed him big time. ‘Any time you’re ready.’
He shrugged. ‘I’m officially off call and ready when you are. Make a date and do your worst.’
She looked him over coolly but inside she was doing a little shaking and wondering if this would be a clever thing to do. Simon, pressed up against her, his arms holding on tight. Leaning into corners together. His strong thighs alongside her thighs. But there was barely a wobble in her voice when she answered, thank goodness. ‘I don’t have a worst. Where did you want to go?’
He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter as long as I get to try the full experience.’
This was getting weirder. Whatever that meant. ‘Fine. Then Saturday. We’ll go up to the lookout, it’s a nice drive through the forest and it’s a great place to watch the sunset.’
‘You’re on.’
Almost enthusiastic. Her voice held a hint of indulgence. ‘You’ll be wanting to parachute next.’
‘I haven’t ruled it out in the far distant future.’
She looked at him and he was smiling but whether he was teasing or serious she couldn’t work out. What she could read made her cheeks feel hot. She almost wished he didn’t look at her like that because it was going to be incredibly hard some time in the definite future when the feeling it gave her was lost.
But then her sensible side, the one that said she would survive no matter what, decided that being with Simon was like parachuting—the rush was incredible but the reality was the ground waiting for you. But it didn’t mean you shouldn’t enjoy the ride. This would never last but it was wonderful while it did and from now on she was going to take what was on offer with open arms.
On Saturday Simon was waiting for her when she returned from an unscheduled home visit. One of her caseload ladies was having breastfeeding problems so Tara had sat with her for the last feed until mum and baby were back in sync.
She glanced at her watch. ‘Do we still have time before sunset? Or do you want to wait until tomorrow afternoon?’
‘I’ve been waiting all day to hang off the back of your bike.’ The words were jaunty but the unease was not quite hidden on Simon’s face and belied his statement as he picked up his backpack.
She had to smile at that. ‘Liar.’ She watched him slide his arms into the shoulder straps and hoist the pack onto his back in one adroitly muscular movement. Dragged her eyes away. ‘What’s in the bag?’
‘Never you mind. You worry about me and I’ll worry about the bag.’
Oh, she was worried about him all right. ‘Sounds intriguing. You’ll have to wait while I change.’ She glanced at his long jeans and solid shoes and nodded approval. ‘I don’t ride in shorts either.’
‘Tell me you come in leather.’ A wicked wink suggested he was fantasising and hoping she’d come to the party.
‘I can do.’ She raised her brows suggestively, playing along with him, and couldn’t believe how much fun this stuff was. ‘But normally only for long trips.’ She tossed over her shoulder, ‘You’ll just have to wait and see.’
