Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal. Abigail Gordon
doorpost, keeping watch that all was well now that she’d backed out of the circle of mother, father and child, and just soaked in the magic.
She couldn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe the experience that Simon had given her. Not just with his innate love of teaching and promoting breech birth to his less-experienced colleagues, but the ambience and peaceful joy of the occasion, because everyone, including her, had felt safe, and imbued with the faith that they’d had everything needed for the occasion. Her glorious moment! Because Simon had been there.
She’d never experienced anything like it. How could one man make that difference? It was a gift she hugged to herself.
Two hours later Susan was tucked up into bed for a well-earned rest but her eyes were wide and alert, baby Blake was tucked up in his little cot sound asleep beside his mother, and Pete snored gently in the big chair beside the window.
Susan and Tara looked at each other and smiled.
‘I wish I could sleep,’ Susan said dryly.
‘It’s the adrenalin from the birth,’ Tara said quietly. ‘Your instinct is to stay alert so you can snatch up your baby and run. You’ll slowly calm down and drift off to sleep soon.’
‘Thanks, Tara,’ Susan said sincerely. ‘From the first minute I saw you I knew everything was going to be fine.’
Tara had too. But Simon had ensured it really had gone well. He’d been amazing and she’d tell him so. ‘I’m so glad. And thank you.’ They grinned at each other as Tara gently shut the door to keep out the noises that might wake them.
SIMON DROPPED IN before the afternoon midwife arrived to see how Susan was faring.
‘She’s great. Talking about going home tomorrow. You going in to see her? Baby is awake and Pete’s gone home.’
Tara was at the desk, completing Susan’s patient notes. She went to stand and he put his hand up. ‘Stay there. I’m just saying hello and I’ll pop out to see you when I’ve finished.’
Tara nodded and carried on, wanting to have it all completed before the end of her shift. There was a mountain of paperwork when a baby was born, let alone when the woman arrived not expecting to have her baby with them, and she was transferring all the information they’d had faxed after the event from Brisbane.
But she still had to thank Simon and she didn’t want him to leave without having the chance.
When Simon reappeared he had Blake with him. ‘Susan’s gone to the loo and Blake was complaining.’ He carried the baby like a little football tucked onto his hip and his large hand cradling the baby’s head with relaxed confidence. There was something incredibly attractive about a man comfortable with small babies and Tara hugged the picture to herself. Not that she was doing anything with it—just enjoying it.
Simon bounced the little baby bundle gently, feeling his weight. ‘He’s heavy.’
‘Seven pounds on the dot.’
‘Impressive for a breech.’ He smiled at her. ‘So were you.’
Tara could feel the heat in her cheeks. She hadn’t been the amazing one. He’d instilled confidence in all of them, even the nervous Pete, so what was it about this guy that made her blush like a schoolgirl? Seeing that even when she’d been a schoolgirl she’d never blushed? ‘I didn’t do anything except put my hands out at the end, but I really appreciated the chance to be hands on, hands off. Thank you. And Susan was amazing.’
‘It’s okay, Tara. You were good because you didn’t do anything. You did so well.’
‘I can see why it’s hands off now.’ She changed the subject. Had never had been able to deal with compliments. Probably because she hadn’t received that many in her life. She inclined her head towards Blake. ‘You always been this good with babies?’
He grinned and she tried not to let the power of the smile affect her. Losing battle. ‘I was a couple of years older than the eldest sister and Mum had three more pretty fast. So I guess I did get good with babies. I enjoyed helping with the girls and Mum was pretty busy by the time she had Maeve. I wasn’t into dolls but it was always going to be obstetrics or paediatrics.’
He looked at Tara. Tried to see into her past. ‘Were you a girly girl?’
Hadn’t had the chance. ‘What’s a girly girl?’
‘Dress-ups. A favourite doll?’
There had been a couple of shared toys she’d been allowed to play with but not her own. ‘After my parents died I never owned a doll. So I guess not.’
His brows drew together but thankfully he changed the subject. ‘What time do you finish?’
‘Three-thirty.’
‘Fancy another swim?’
Simon studied the strong features of the woman across from him. He became more intrigued the more he saw her. His four sisters had all been spoilt by everyone, including himself, and secure in their knowledge of their own attraction. Even Maeve in her current circumstances dressed and acted like the confident woman she was.
But Tara favoured the unisex look of jeans and T-shirts and now he knew that at work, despite the choices of the rest of the staff, she even favoured shapeless scrubs.
But in her plain black one-piece swimsuit she couldn’t hide the fact she was all woman. A delightfully shapely woman with determination to the little chin and a wariness of being hurt that seemed to lurk at the back of her eyes.
An orphan. And a loner perhaps? ‘Tell me about your childhood.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I’m interested.’
A wary glance and then she looked away. ‘Nothing to tell.’
‘Are you always this difficult when people want to get to know you?’
A clash of her eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘So did you always live in an orphanage or did you have foster-parents?’
‘Both.’
He waited and she gave in with a sigh.
‘I preferred the orphanage because at least I knew where I stood.’
He would have thought an orphanage would be way worse but he knew nothing. Hadn’t ever thought about it. Didn’t actually like to think about it when he looked at Tara. ‘How so?’
‘Being a foster-child is tricky. You know it’s not permanent, so it’s hard not to be defensive. If you let people get to you it hurts too much when you have to leave.’
He knew he should drop it, but he couldn’t. ‘Don’t some foster-parents stay with the same children?’
Her face gave nothing away. ‘I seemed to find the ones who shouldn’t be foster-parents.’
He felt a shaft of sympathy for a little lost Tara. Found himself wanting to shake those careless foster-parents. It must have shown on his face.
‘Don’t even think about feeling sorry for me, Simon.’ There was a fierceness in her eyes that made him blink.
And apologise. ‘Sorry. I think my sisters had it too much the other way with people looking after them. I’ve always been protective. If you ask Maeve, too protective, and I guess I got worse when the truth came out that I really only had half the right.’ It wasn’t something he usually burdened others with twice but maybe unintentionally he’d trodden on Tara’s past hurts and felt he should expose his own.
Of course Tara pounced on the chance to change the subject and he guessed he couldn’t blame her. Served him