The Midwife's Little Miracle. Fiona McArthurЧитать онлайн книгу.
rush, legs and feet followed and in a tangle of cord and water and fresh broken sunlight, her baby was born.
The unmistakable sound of a newborn’s first cry startled the birds as Montana reached down and gathered her daughter to her, forgetting the cord that joined them, and she laughed at the tug that reminded her that all umbilical cords were not long.
A daughter. Douglas’s daughter. She turned, not expecting to see him yet so grateful she had imagined him in her time of greatest need.
The clearing was empty save for the mother wallaby and her skittish joey, and like the last of the night tendrils they too disappeared silently as the fog rolled away.
She shivered.
* * *
‘You must be Montana?’ His voice was different from Douglas’s, not as deep or careful with enunciation, but the same timbre of quiet authority and caring drifted over her and that must have been why she didn’t jump.
She wound down the window and saw the darkest auburn hair and green eyes that proclaimed his relationship to her friend. So this was Misty’s big brother from Queensland. He towered over her door.
It seemed almost normal that Misty’s four-wheel drive had pulled up next to hers in the morning light and have this man stand beside her car door to look in.
He had to bend down quite a bit to her level and she smiled to herself at the trials of tall men. ‘Yes, I’m Montana. I gather Misty sent you?’
He nodded. ‘I’m Andy.’ He looked across at the top of her baby’s head snuggled into her chest with blankets over both of them in a big mound, and he smiled.
To Andy they both seemed so peaceful despite the absolute isolation in which they’d met. There was something so tranquil about the mother and daughter in this isolated spot that it was difficult to grasp she had given birth without support. ‘And who is this?’
Montana smiled and he felt the curve of her lips and the softening of her eyes right down to his combat boots and back up again where heat flickered in his chest like a hot coal from an outback campfire.
‘This is my daughter, Dawn,’ she said, and her serene voice wrapped around him like the fog he’d just passed through to get here.
‘Hello, Dawn.’ He smiled at the thatch of dark hair against Montana and the baby snuffled as if in answer. ‘I can guess what time she arrived.’
His smile faded and his training reminded him this woman had been without assistance. He framed the question as delicately as he could. ‘Any problems you need help with?’
She glanced at him and he felt the humour behind her voice more than he heard it when she spoke, and the observation confused him. Since when had he picked up fine distinctions in tone from unknown women?
‘No, thank you, Doctor,’ she said. ‘Third stage complete and I’m not bleeding or damaged. My baby has fed.’
He didn’t like the way he was so conscious of his sister’s friend but maybe that was because he felt for her recent loss.
He knew he avoided emotions these days, had done for three years. It was the way he’d decided to stay and he empathised with her journey. But, actually, he was more than conscious of her.
They were on the side of a mountain, for heaven’s sake, and she’d just had a baby.
He concentrated on the things he was good at. ‘Right, then. Let’s get you out of here.’ He glanced around to decide where to reverse the vehicle.
Montana’s voice was gentle, as if explaining to a child—and a slow one at that. ‘We have to wait for the fog on the road to clear further down before we go.’
He could feel himself frown but what could she expect? He hadn’t predicted resistance to rescue. ‘I managed to get here.’
‘That’s lovely.’ And she smiled that damn schoolmistress smile again that made his neck prickle under his collar.
She went on. ‘I’m not risking my daughter in a drive down the mountain with a man I don’t know until the mist is gone completely, even if the man driving does rescue for a living.’
The inflexible set of her chin and the tilt of her fine-boned face should have exasperated him but inexplicably he could feel himself bend like a reed to her wishes. So be it. ‘Fine. We’ll wait.’
He paused while they both pondered how long that would be. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’
He saw her eyes widen as her taste buds responded and his own smile twitched as he tried to contain his amusement. Ha!
Deadpan, he gave the choices as he watched her face. ‘Earl Grey, breakfast, peppermint or jasmine tea?’
A tiny frown marred her forehead as if she wasn’t sure if he was joking. ‘Jasmine?’
‘Fine. I’ll rustle that up shortly.’ He pulled the hot water bottle his sister had slipped into the car from the pocket of his doctor’s bag and showed it to her.
‘Misty sent this.’ He touched the handle of her car door and raised his brows again. ‘May I?’
When she nodded he tucked the warm rubber bottle under the blanket against her feet.
He couldn’t help noticing she had little feet. Slim, shapely ankles, too, but he liked her feet. He heard her sigh with the warmth as he stepped back, and that dragged his mind away from her toes. Now he had a foot fetish? What was wrong with him this morning?
The air seemed colder now that he’d moved back away from her. ‘Sure you’re warm enough? I have a great heater in the car.’
She tugged the blanket closer around her neck. ‘That seems sensible. Perhaps you could heat your car first and then I could hand you Dawn to keep snug while I do a bit of a tidy with myself?’
Nurses. Obsessed with being tidy, he thought. He grinned. ‘I’ll be right back.’
She watched him walk away. A tall, lean man, even taller than Douglas. She really had to stop comparing people to her darling Douglas. Andy resembled his sister uncannily but there was no doubt he held the Y chromosome. It had been kind of him to come, unnecessary but kind.
No doubt Misty and Mia had panicked when she hadn’t arrived last night but she’d wanted one more night on the mountain before she had to move out to start afresh.
The most important night, as it turned out, and she smiled down at her daughter.
Minutes drifted peacefully and then he was back. ‘The car is heated. Shall I take Dawn?’
He held out his arms and she saw he’d unwrapped a small blanket and a tiny warm beanie from another hot-water bottle.
It didn’t surprise her any more about his sister’s intuition. Misty was known for her premonitions. ‘Misty must have been pretty sure Dawn would arrive.’
Andy nodded. ‘She rang me at five this morning in a state and I’ve learnt to believe her when she “feels” something.’
‘Is it a family trait?’ Montana could see he was proud of his fey sister. She’d found another thing she liked about him.
He smiled crookedly and the way he curved his firm mouth made him more a real person and less Misty’s brother. ‘Sometimes I’m accused of uncanny intuition if we’re searching for someone, but not with the precision and clarity of Misty.’
He pulled the soft bonnet over Dawn’s hair as if he’d beanied a baby many times and then rolled her little body in the blanket as he peeled her away from Montana’s skin so that the cold air wouldn’t distress her. Dawn didn’t even whimper.
Montana was quietly impressed with his confidence with her newborn daughter—even Douglas, an obstetrician, hadn’t been that adept at handling babies. The thought was diverted by a sneaky eddy of cold air that had whispered