A Special Kind Of Family Read online

  It was an illusion, he thought, but he may as well enjoy it while it lasted.

  The boys seemed mesmerised as well. When it was finally time for bed they left Erin with reluctance, but they knew she’d still be there tomorrow.

  Tomorrow was looking great. It was so different from what he’d expected.

  He’d seen six patients during the course of the day-none needing him to go out but each needing his full attention. Erin had turned the day around. She was fantastic, he thought, returning to the kitchen after tucking the boys in. A laughing, cheerful sprite…

  He swung open the kitchen door and she looked so sad he stopped in his tracks.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded involuntarily, and she caught herself and dredged up a smile.

  ‘Nothing. Sorry. Just thinking. This is my thinking face.’

  ‘It looks like your end-of-the-world face.’

  ‘That’s a bit dramatic.’

  ‘Okay,’ he conceded. ‘Maybe it’s a just-lost-your-fiancé face.’

  ‘He’s not my fiancé,’ she snapped. ‘He never was. He just assumed he was. He never told me, though. I’ve had boyfriends. He’s had girlfriends. But of course he’s always been around, and when I was offered this new job he decided I was getting too career oriented. It was time I knew where I stood. How’s that for romantic?’

  ‘Not very?’ he said cautiously.

  ‘Too right, not very. Is it dumb to want violins? Nightingales? Fireworks exploding? Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?’

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘You mean it hasn’t happened for you, either.’

  ‘I think it’s-’

  ‘You tell me it only exists in the pages of a romance novel I swear I’ll break down and sob,’ she said darkly. ‘I know this true love thing’s out there somewhere. What about all those heroines out there dying of broken hearts? Or fading away of consumption.’

  ‘Is that what you want to do?’ He smiled at her mournful expression. ‘If you do then maybe you need to cut down your intake of Easter buns.’

  ‘And now you mock my romantic heart. It took only that.’

  She was smiling now. But…behind the smile…There’d been real sadness when he’d walked into the room. He’d seen it.

  He didn’t need to get emotionally involved. This woman’s life was not his business. He did not need to enquire any further.

  Erin must be tired. He should tuck her into bed. No, whoops, dangerous. He should order her to bed. But his gut feeling was telling him the minute she was alone that face would return.

  So, despite misgivings, he stayed. Erin was sitting by the stove, resting her feet on a footstool. He moved to stand beside her, back to the fire, a position he loved.

  He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  She was…beautiful.

  Unaccountably, stupidly, he wanted to touch her. He wanted to run his fingers through her curls, tilt her face to his, kiss away her sadness…

  Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate.

  He needed to get this on some sort of doctor/patient level, he decided. After all, that’s what she was. She’d come to his house looking for medical help and he’d provided it.

  So to kiss her now…

  No.

  ‘Your family and Charles’s family are…close?’ he ventured at last.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  ‘Just enquiring. There seems to be lots of undercurrents I’m not getting. I’m sniffing dysfunction. Dysfunctional families are my specialty. You want tea?’

  ‘Sure,’ she said, and watched him as he heated the teapot. ‘Haven’t you heard of teabags?’

  ‘They don’t work as well,’ he said. ‘For dysfunction.’

  ‘My family’s not dysfunctional.’

  ‘You know, I’m a part-time dad,’ he said. ‘These kids are on loan while their families sort themselves out, but I still manage to get pretty close. If one of them sent word that he’d crashed his car, I might be tempted to find out for myself what was going on. It seems to me that your parents depended on Charles to report in. As far as I know, they haven’t even phoned.’

  ‘I’m almost thirty.’

  ‘So when do you stop caring?’

  ‘They do care.’

  ‘Right.’

  There was a long pause. He measured in scoops of tea with care.

  She eyed the pot with caution.

  ‘They do,’ she repeated at last. ‘They care very much. It seems they’re delighted I’m marrying Charles.’

  ‘I thought you weren’t.’

  ‘I’m not. But according to Charles they think I am. Dom?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you a complete paragon?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Charles is very…controlled,’ she said. ‘He’d say drinking tea is really sensible right now.’

  ‘You don’t want tea?’

  ‘I ought to want tea. It’s very sensible of you to suggest tea.’

  ‘But you’d rather…’

  ‘Whisky,’ she said promptly. ‘Failing that, a glass of red. But, then…you probably disapprove.’

  ‘Work of the devil,’ he said, and loved the look on her face.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said meekly. ‘Of course.’

  ‘But if you could make do with some really excellent cognac…’

  Her face changed again. She was totally transparent. He tried not to laugh but…she was making him laugh inside. It was an extraordinary sensation.

  ‘You have cognac?’ she demanded.

  ‘For medicinal purposes only. Three times a day before meals or three glasses before bedtime. Whichever suits the patient.’

  ‘Yes please,’ she breathed. ‘This patient needs medicine now.’

  So they drank cognac. They also talked shop. Medicine was the easiest, safest thing to talk about.

  They’d been to the same medical school, four years apart. How come he’d never noticed her? Mind, his head had been so far into books back then that he might not have noticed.

  She was ambitious. She’d been one of the youngest graduates ever and she’d gone into emergency medicine.

  ‘I love it,’ she said. ‘Pure adrenaline.’

  ‘But you don’t get to know your patients.’

  ‘No. No emotional stuff that way.’

  ‘You don’t like emotional stuff?’

  ‘I’ve had enough emotion to last me a lifetime.’

  ‘You want to explain?’ he asked, and she shook her head and stared into the depths of her cognac.

  She fell silent. He didn’t mind. He even liked it.

  She was a restful woman. Warm and funny, but there were depths he could only guess at.

  She’d used the comb he’d found her to good purpose. Her hair was lovely, tumbling around her shoulders in soft curls. More and more he wanted to reach out and touch…Reach out and kiss…

  No. No and no and no.

  ‘I lost my brother and sister,’ she said bluntly, and her bald statement shook him out of his not so appropriate thoughts.

  ‘How?’

  ‘They were killed when I was four.’ He had the impression she was trying to figure things out and he could listen or not. ‘Sarah was seven and Connor was nine. Charles’s father was driving. Charles was in the front seat. Charles was nine as well-he and Connor were friends. A truck ran a red light. Sarah and Connor were in the back seat and were killed instantly.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, not knowing what else to say.

  ‘I was too little to figure it out,’ she said. ‘I just remember people crying. Crying for years, really. And then, every family function since, Charles and his parents have been there.’

  Ouch. A psychologist could have a field day with this one.

  ‘So tonight…they’ll all be distressed,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll be sitting round not knowing what to think. But while you were putting the kids to bed I tried to ring, and Mum was so upset she wouldn’t talk to me. Now
Charles will be explaining I’ve had a shock and I’ll come to my senses-he’ll see to it. And my parents will listen to him. They’ll leave me alone to figure things out. On about Easter Sunday Charles will appear again and be reasonable and have a very sensible plan as to what to do with Marilyn. What to do with me.’

  Her voice wobbled.

  He didn’t get into this sort of emotion. But…as if it had a life of its own, his hand moved to rest gently on her hair.

  She put her hand up and covered his.

  It was okay. He could do this. It felt…right.

  She needed this. He knew it. What he didn’t understand so much was why he felt as if he needed it, too.

  The urge for more…to take her in his arms, to kiss her, was still there, but it was supplanted. Comfort was okay. More than okay, actually. The warmth in this tangible link was so strong it left him feeling that something was being forged that was really important.

  Something he wasn’t sure existed.

  ‘Dom,’ she said at last, softly.

  ‘Mmm?’

  She pulled her hand away and maybe it was his imagination but he was sure there was reluctance. She had to move on.

  They both did.

  ‘I reckon Marilyn and her pups would be more comfortable in here by the stove,’ she whispered. Then she tried again and she had her voice back. It made him wonder if the contact they’d had was disturbing her. She’d needed to get back to sensible. Practical. ‘If we popped them in the corner they’d be out of the way. They can’t stay in the hall all Easter. You want to cart them in?’

  ‘I guess.’

  So she sat by the stove and superintended while he made up a dog-bed. Gently he lifted each tiny pup across to the new bed, letting Marilyn see exactly what he was doing. As the last puppy was taken away from her, Marilyn heaved a doleful sigh, hauled herself to her feet and lumbered across to her new bed.

  This felt okay, too, Dom thought. He was surrounded by domesticity and for once it didn’t scare him.

  He ought to go to bed. He’d been up since dawn and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be disturbed again during the night.

  But he didn’t want to leave the kitchen. He didn’t want to leave Erin.

  ‘So tell me about you,’ she murmured.

  And he thought, no, he should go.

  ‘Not a lot to tell.’

  ‘Yeah, there is. You finished med school four years before I did. Were your parents proud?’

  ‘Ruby stood in the front row at my graduation and cried like her heart was breaking.’

  ‘Ruby?’

  ‘My foster-mother.’

  ‘So your real mum and dad…’

  ‘Disappeared years ago,’ he said. ‘I haven’t heard from my mother since I was eight. My birth father was arrested for armed robbery six years ago. I read about it in the papers. But I only knew him by name.’

  ‘Which explains why you take in foster-kids?’

  ‘Maybe it does,’ he said repressively.

  ‘Did you always want to be a doctor?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Why?’

  He shrugged. And then he thought, Why the hell not? Tell it like it is.

  ‘We moved towns a lot when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘My mother was…not exactly stable.’ He shrugged. ‘She believed in love at first sight-which meant we followed loser after loser. Finally there was a night…’ He hesitated, then decided there were still places he didn’t want to go. ‘Anyway, it was what the cops call a domestic. The police came, there were neighbours shouting, lots of stuff going on. And in the middle of it all, the doctor arrived. A nice, grey-haired old man who surveyed the mess, then came straight for me. I remember I was hiding under some hydrangeas in the corner of the garden. It was like he knew I had to be there. He came under the bushes, he told me I’d had enough, that he’d take care of my mum from now on, and then he put me in his car and took me to Ruby. I should have been taken in by Child Welfare. I should have been formally assessed. Instead, half an hour later I was by Ruby’s fire-stove drinking mugs of hot chocolate while Ruby and the doctor talked about what colour socks he’d like her to knit him. And who was going to win the football that week.’

  ‘He sounds wonderful,’ Erin said in a voice that was suddenly none too steady.

  ‘They both were,’ he said. ‘Doc Roberts and Ruby. Extraordinary people. I can’t touch them for kindness. But I can take in the odd waif as payback.’

  ‘How long have you taken in waifs?’

  ‘Since I found Tansy,’ he said. ‘I was looking for a country practice. I wanted one where there was less work than there is here, but I came to the interview before I realised how remote it was. Tansy was on the panel that interviewed me. I mentioned I wanted space in my life to foster kids, and I wanted a big house. About two minutes later I had this place and a live-in housekeeper.’

  ‘So she’s bossy.’

  ‘She’s great.’ He hesitated, feeling…exposed. Really exposed. ‘But what about you?’ he demanded, and his voice came out rougher than he’d intended. ‘Why did you decide to be a doctor?’

  ‘I don’t think I ever had a choice. Two parents. One kid where there should have been three. Actually, four parents,’ she said, ‘for Charles’s parents might as well have been my own. It was always assumed we’d do great things. Charles’s parents knew he was going to be a doctor-though maybe that’s unfair. Charles certainly wanted to be one. I got carried along for the ride.’

  ‘But you like it?’

  ‘I love it,’ she said, and the dispirited tone gave way to sudden enthusiasm. ‘I never thought I would, but I do. Mind, they’re all desperately unhappy that I’ve chosen to work in emergency medicine rather than one of the status specialties. They think it’s an aberration. Some day soon I’ll settle to something more worthwhile.’

  ‘An aberration,’ he said, and turned and looked at Marilyn. ‘You and your dog. Aberrations both.’

  ‘What a thing to say.’ Suddenly she smiled and, damn, there was that feeling in the depths of his gut again. It was the loveliest smile.

  She was the loveliest woman.

  But she was tired. The smile faltered almost as it appeared. She yawned-and Marilyn yawned in sympathy.

  He smiled at the pair of them.

  ‘Bed,’ he said. ‘Marilyn’s in hers. I’ll carry you to yours.’

  ‘No need. I can manage.’ She grabbed the crutches he’d found for her and struggled to her feet.

  ‘No,’ she said as he made a move to help her. ‘Thank you, Dominic,’ she said gently. ‘You’ve been great.’

  He didn’t feel great. It nearly killed him to stay still and watch as she struggled out of the room. But somehow he did.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said softly, and she turned and smiled.

  ‘Goodnight, Dom,’ she whispered. ‘And thank you.’

  She was gone. The kitchen felt bleak for her going.

  Which was nonsense.

  He made a desultory effort to clear dishes. He moved Marilyn’s water bowl so she could reach it, and then as she stirred he thought okay maybe it was time, so he picked her up and carried her outside. She was moving herself now, but it filled a need to carry someone.

  Erin for preference, but Marilyn was all that was on offer.

  So he stood in the cool night air and waited until Marilyn completed her toileting. It was restful out under the stars.

  He should feel peaceful.

  Hell, he didn’t. Erin was settling into bed right through that window. Erin…

  Marilyn was sniffing the grass, licking up the dew, raising her head and smelling new smells. She looked battered and exhausted, yet profoundly grateful for this moment-for the ability to smell the night air before going back to her pups.

  ‘Life’s okay,’ he said gently, and from the veranda came a response.

  ‘It looks okay from this angle, too.’

  He turned and Erin was watching him from under the porch lights.

 
She was lovely. Mind-blowingly lovely.

  ‘You need to be in bed,’ he said, and felt dumb.

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘So what’s stopping us?’ He lifted Marilyn again and carried her up the steps. The big dog looked up at him with an expression of something akin to devotion.

  ‘Hey, don’t look at me like that,’ he told her. ‘Doc Carmody here’s the one who saved you.’

  ‘And you saved us both.’ Erin smiled at him and there it was again. Gut lurch.

  Enough with the dog. Time for a little exercise rehabilitation. The door was open. He set Marilyn down, she waggled her butt and staggered toward the door.

  Erin made a sharp move to clear a path but then it was her turn to stagger. She wobbled dangerously on her crutches and Dom made a dive. He caught her shoulders. Her crutches clattered to the floor-and he was left holding her.

  ‘It’s either one or t’other of us,’ she said, sounding suddenly breathless. ‘Me and Marilyn. Your walking wounded.’

  ‘Or not walking. You want me to carry you to bed?’

  ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I suspect you know why not,’ she said, with a hint of asperity. ‘You’re too near, you’re too male and you don’t have a wife upstairs as chaperone.’

  ‘Pity about that.’

  ‘I’m sure you miss her madly,’ she said, but she didn’t pull away.

  ‘I don’t need anyone.’ Where had that come from? The situation had been light. Suddenly it was intensely personal.

  ‘I’m sure you don’t,’ she said softly. ‘Whereas I…I need all sorts of people. So…so when does Tansy come back?’

  ‘Her daughter had her baby last weekend. Maybe a couple of weeks.’

  ‘I can’t stay for a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Of course you can’t.’

  ‘I should have gone with Charles.’

  ‘You decided not to.’

  ‘I did. I wanted to help you.’ She sighed. ‘Fat lot of help I am.’

  ‘You did help. You are helping.’ His hands stayed on her shoulders. She’d have to pull away if she wanted him to move and she wasn’t pulling. She might even be leaning in.