Midwives On Call: From Babies To Bride. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
like home.
‘It is nice, isn’t it? Most of this stuff isn’t mine, though. I’m house-sitting for a nurse at the Victoria who’s gone overseas for a year. Sad to say, the year’s half-over now. I’ll have to start thinking about finding a place of my own before too long.’
‘Where were you before this?’ Aiden took the corkscrew Sophia handed him and dealt expertly with opening the wine while she took a couple of steps back into the kitchen to fetch glasses.
‘Canberra. It’s where I grew up.’
‘You’ve got family there?’ Aiden poured the wine.
‘Just my parents. Dad’s a pharmacist and Mum’s a teacher.’ Sophia sat down on the sofa and it felt good when Aiden came to sit beside her. ‘How ’bout you?’
‘No folks. There’s just me and Nate. Mum died due to complications with his birth.’
‘Oh … that’s awful. Do you remember her?’
‘Yeah …’ For a second, Sophia could see the pain of that loss in his eyes but then his gaze slid sideways, as though he knew he might be revealing too much. ‘Not as well as I’d like to, though. I was only six when she died.’ He took a huge swallow of his wine.
Sophia’s heart ached for the little boy who’d lost his mother. She’d never lost one of her maternity patients but she knew it still happened in rare cases and she could imagine how terrible it would be for the whole family.
‘That smell is driving me mad.’ Aiden’s tone had a forced cheerfulness to it. An attempt to dispel any negative vibe? ‘I didn’t get time for lunch today.’
‘Oh …’ Maybe she couldn’t do anything to comfort that little boy of years gone by but she could certainly fix this. ‘Let’s eat. Why don’t you choose some music to put on while I mash the potatoes?’
His choice was surprising. ‘You went for vinyl?’
‘Retro, huh? The girl who owns this place is really into the old stuff.’
Sophia laughed. ‘It’s more like she’s never thrown anything out. Dot’s in her early sixties. At least you chose one of my favourites. I adore Cat Stevens.’
‘Me, too.’ Aiden took the plate from her hands but held her gaze. ‘And how did you know that lamb shanks are my all-time favourite food?’
The warmth in that gaze made the pleasure of approval all the more intense and Sophia had to break the eye contact. ‘Lucky guess. Or maybe we just have a lot in common.’
The food tasted just as good as it had smelled. The flames on the fake logs of the gas fire danced merrily and the music was the perfect background. All that was missing, Sophia decided, was candlelight.
Except wouldn’t that make it too romantic to be a non-date? And what could she talk about that wouldn’t take them into ground that might be deemed too personal and put it into the same category?
‘You must have had a busy day, if you didn’t get time for lunch.’
‘Sure did. Two cardiac arrests, one straight after the other, would you believe?’
‘Did you get them back?’
‘Transported the first one with a viable rhythm but I think the downtime had been too long. The second guy woke up after the third shock and wanted to know what all the fuss was about.’
‘No, really?’
‘Yeah …’ Aiden refilled their glasses and then raised his in a toast. ‘Doesn’t happen very often but when it does, it makes it all worthwhile. Even missing lunch.’ He picked up his fork again. ‘Did I tell you how amazing this is? I can’t even mash potatoes without leaving lumps in.’
Sophia smiled. ‘Tell me about the save. How old was he? Was there bystander CPR happening when you got there?’
Aiden told her about the successful case in so much detail she felt like she’d been standing there, watching the drama.
‘You’re really good at that.’
‘What?’
‘Telling a story. You could write a book about your job and people would want to read it.’
Aiden shook his head. ‘I’ve just had practice, that’s all. Nathan is a frustrated paramedic, I think. He always wants every gory detail about everything and doesn’t let me get away with leaving stuff out. It’s become a habit.’
Sophia forgot about any boundaries she might have been watching so that they could keep this time light. And fun. There was such a strong undercurrent to Aiden’s words. It had the strength of showing the bond between the brothers in that Aiden was so used to sharing every detail of his life with Nathan, but it had rocks and rapids in it, too. Did Nathan resent that Aiden was out in the world, doing such an exciting and physical job, while he was trapped in a wheelchair? Did Aiden feel guilty about it?
‘How did it happen?’ she heard herself asking quietly. ‘How did Nate become a quadriplegic?’
Aiden stopped chewing his mouthful of food and swallowed. Carefully. He reached for his glass of wine but didn’t look at Sophia.
‘He got pushed down a set of stairs.’ His voice was flat.
‘Oh, my God …’ If she’d still had any appetite, it evaporated at that moment. ‘How old was he?’
‘Ten.’
A ten-year-old boy who’d probably loved to ride his bike and play soccer or rugby. A boy who’d already had it tough by having to grow up without his mother.
An echo of those sombre words Aiden had spoken the other night slipped into her head.
I had to be a father to Nate when he was growing up and that was enough. More than enough.
Had he been referring to the growing up before that dreadful accident or the trauma of readjustment that would have come afterwards?
She had so many questions she wanted to ask but didn’t dare push further into such personal territory. The silence grew. Aiden was staring at his wineglass.
‘Must have been drinking on such an empty stomach that did it,’ he mused. ‘I never talk about this.’
Then he looked up and caught Sophia’s gaze. ‘Or maybe it’s because I’m with you.’
Something inside her melted into a liquid warmth. Some of it reached her eyes and she knew she’d have to blink a lot to make sure it didn’t escape and roll down her cheeks. Her voice came out as a whisper.
‘You can tell me anything. Or not. You’re safe, either way.’ She tried to smile but it didn’t quite work.
Aiden wasn’t smiling either. He felt like he was drowning in that moisture he could see collecting in Sophia’s eyes. The caring behind them hit him like an emotional brick and tugged at something long forgotten. Poignant.
Did it remind him of the way his mother had looked at him, maybe?
‘It was my father who pushed him down the stairs,’ he found himself telling her. ‘And it was my fault.’
The shock on her face was all too easy to read and Aiden cringed inwardly. He shouldn’t have told her. She would think less of him. As little as he thought of himself?
But then her face changed. She looked like she was backing away even though she didn’t move a single muscle.
‘I don’t believe that,’ she said. ‘Not one bit.’
How could she say that with such conviction? She barely knew him and she knew nothing of what had happened. A flash of anger made it easy to unchain words.
‘My father was an alcoholic. He resented having to raise kids on his own and he blamed