Healed By The Midwife's Kiss: Healed by the Midwife's Kiss. Fiona McArthurЧитать онлайн книгу.
pointed to a handprint on the front step that he’d finished with instant cement. Using a layer of cling wrap over the wet surface, he’d pressed her starfish hand into the step on each side while holding her clamped to his side. The little palm prints made him smile every time he opened the door.
‘Come in.’ He heard the pride in his voice and mocked himself. Finn the decorator. ‘There’s still the kitchen and laundry, but I’ve finished Piper’s corner, the bathroom and the floating boards on the floor because she’ll need a solid surface to learn to walk on.’
Frances rotated her neck, as if stuck to the step and that was the only part of her body she could move. ‘It’s tiny.’
He frowned. ‘Yes. It’s a beach cottage. Not a mansion.’
She blinked. Shifted uneasily. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. But your other beautiful house...’
‘Is on the market.’
Now the shock was real. Frances had approved mightily of his imposing residence on top of the hill. Two hills over from her imposing residence. He’d only liked it because Clancy, his missing wife, had loved it.
Frances spluttered, ‘You’re buying a new house?’
‘I’ve bought a new house.’ He put out one hand and gestured. ‘This house. I’m staying here.’
‘I... I thought you’d done this for the owners. That you rented?’
‘I am the owner.’ A little too fierce, Finn, he chided himself.
Frances leaned towards him pleadingly. ‘But your work?’
‘Will be here too when I’m ready. One of the GPs here has offered me a place in his practice when I’m ready. I’ll specialise in children but do all the GP stuff I’ve almost forgotten. It’ll be good.’ He wasn’t sure who he was convincing, Frances or himself. ‘It won’t be yet because I’m in no hurry.’
‘But...’
‘But what?’
His sister turned worried eyes on his. ‘You were only supposed to come here for a few weeks and then come back. Come home.’
‘Home to where, Frances? To what? To an empty castle on a hill full of ghosts and pain. To a clinic with not enough hours in the day so I had to keep my daughter in long day care?’
Frances looked stricken and he leaned in and shared a hug with her, Piper still a limpet on his other hip. Frances meant well and she truly loved him. And now that Mum was gone she was all the family he had. Of course she’d never understood him with the ten-year age difference. Frances hadn’t understood Mum either, if they were being honest. ‘It’s okay. This is a magic place to live and for Piper and me this is the right place at the right time. We’re staying.’
Frances almost wrung her hands. ‘You won’t meet any eligible women here.’
He could feel his mood slip further. His irritation rise. His disappointment deepen. His sister didn’t understand his guilt couldn’t be fixed by an eligible woman. ‘Eligible for what, Frances? I’m no good for any woman at the moment and won’t be...’ he didn’t say ever ‘...for a very long time.’
He decided not to demonstrate the shower. Or point anything else out. Ditched the plans to take a picnic to the beach.
Instead he took Frances to the most expensive restaurant in town, where Piper slept in her stroller beside the table despite the noise of conversations and laughter all around, and listened to her stories of droll people and dire events in her husband’s practice.
In the corner of the restaurant he noticed a very attractive brunette. She nodded at him and he realised it was his morning midwife, elegantly dressed—sans scrubs—and made-up like a model, her brown hair blow-dried and shining, the glints catching the sun. Looking like a million bucks. Other men were looking at her. He preferred the windblown version.
She sat, a little isolated, in a lively group of people, all chinking champagne flutes to celebrate. Frances would approve of the clientele, he thought dryly, but recognised the older doctor he’d mentioned to his sister, and noted the stylish older woman next to him who leant into his shoulder, probably his wife. Another young woman he hadn’t seen around was chatting to the vibrantly glowing woman in the latter stages of pregnancy who drank water, and next to her a man hovered protectively, obviously the doting father-to-be.
He wished him better luck than he’d had. Finn felt his heart twist in self-disgust. He’d tried that. A lot of good that had done him.
‘Finn?’
His sister’s voice called him back to the present and he jerked his face away from them. ‘Sorry. You were telling me about Gerry’s partner?’
Frances hovered over being cross for a moment and thankfully decided to forgive graciously. ‘I was saying she has no idea how a doctor’s wife should dress.’
The lunch dragged on until finally Piper woke up and gave him an excuse to pay the bill.
They waved Frances goodbye after lunch with much relief. ‘Seriously, Piper. Your aunt is getting worse. We’re lucky to be so far away.’
They took the sand buckets and spade back down to the beach in the afternoon because Piper’s routine had been disrupted and she needed to get some play time in and wear herself out before bedtime.
To his surprise, and with a seagull-like swoop of uplifting spirits, the morning midwife sat there on the breakwall, back in beach clothes and mussed by the wind. He smiled at her like a long-lost friend. After the visit from his sister he felt as if he needed a pal.
Trina
TRINA SAT SWINGING her legs on the breakwall down on the beach and breathed in the salt. The sea air blew strands into her eyes but it felt too good to worry about that. She saw him before he saw her and a deep, slashing frown marred his forehead. Different to this morning. Then his expression changed as he saw her, the etched lines disappeared and an unexpected, ridiculously sexy, warmly welcoming smile curved in a big sweep. Goodness. What had she done to deserve that?
‘Lovely afternoon,’ he said and the little girl waved.
Trina’s mouth twitched as she waved back. ‘Beautiful. I saw you at lunch. That’s three times in a day.’
‘A new world record,’ he agreed and she blushed. No idea why.
He paused beside her, another world record, and looked down from far too high. Up close and stationary, told herself again, he would be a very good-looking man—to other women. She studied him almost dispassionately. Long lashes framed those brilliant blue eyes and his dark brown wavy hair curled a tad too long over his ears. His chin was set firm and his cheekbones bordered on harsh in the bright light. She could see his effort to be social cost him. She knew the feeling.
‘I’m Catrina Thomas.’ She didn’t enlarge. He could ask if he was interested, but something told her he wasn’t so much interested as in need of a friend. Which suited her perfectly.
‘Finlay Foley. And you’ve met Piper. My daughter.’ The little girl bounced in the backpack.
You could do nothing but smile at Piper. ‘Piper looks like she wants to get down amongst the sand.’
‘Piper is happiest when she’s caked in sand.’ His hand lifted to stroke the wiggling little leg at his chest. Strong brown fingers tickling a plump golden baby ankle. ‘We’re going to build sandcastles. Piper is going to play hard and long and get extremely tired so she will sleep all night.’ Trina wasn’t sure if he was telling her or telling Piper. She suspected the latter.
‘Nice theory,’ Trina agreed judiciously. ‘I see you have it all worked out.’
He began