Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal. Abigail Gordon
the kitchen and ducked under a Christmas streamer before she sat down. ‘What’s wrong with Simon?’ She absently scratched her tummy and inclined her head back towards the bathroom her brother had just disappeared into.
The door slammed and Tara winced. ‘No idea. He’s been acting strange since we came back from the picnic last night.’ Maybe he was always like this and she’d been too blinded by his pretty face.
Or she’d said something that made him realise she was the last woman he wanted to get involved with. Suck it up, princess, you know this happens to you all the time. ‘Is he usually moody?’
‘Nope.’ Maeve shook her head. ‘He’s the most even-tempered of all of us. The only time he gets techy is if he’s worried about something big.’
Did she qualify for big? Did he think she was trying to trap him? Cringe. Cringe.
Lord, no. She’d never do that. She’d been told often enough by Matron to push herself out there and be a little more demanding but it just wasn’t in her make-up. If the family hadn’t seen how badly she’d wanted their life, she hadn’t been about to tell them and get knocked back for her pains.
She guessed Simon was that all over again. ‘He’ll get over it.’ And her. Already had, it seemed. It was probably all in her imagination anyway and he had just been amusing himself.
Well, problem was there was so much to admire about him, and he seemed to enjoy her company, plus he was a darned good kisser, and she’d practically thrown herself at him last night and he’d knocked her offer back, and that had left them in an awkward place, now that she thought about it. Thanks very much, Simon.
Time to change the subject. And the focus of her life. ‘So how are you going, Maeve?’
Simon’s sister shrugged. ‘I’m fine. Feeling less nauseous and much heavier around the middle.’ She sent Tara one of the most relaxed smiles Tara had seen from her. ‘But I’d rather talk about you two.’
Darn! Lulled into a false sense of security. ‘There’s no “us two”.’
Maeve raised her brows disbelievingly and Tara wanted to bury her head in her hands. Seriously. How many other people thought she’d fallen for Simon? Or he for her? Just because they’d hung out together a bit, and kissed a few times, that smug voice inside insisted.
Maeve wasn’t having any of that apparently. ‘Well, if there’s not a “you two” he’s been pretty hopeless at getting the message across. What with parachuting photo packages, and pestering you for a bike ride, and Louisa for a picnic hamper—and the rug! ‘
Lots of eyebrow waggling coming her way here and Tara could feel the heat creep up her cheeks. So this was what it was like to have a sister.
Obviously Maeve had no scruples in laying stuff out in front of her and teasing. Maybe she hadn’t been so unlucky as an orphan to avoid this stuff. Apart from Mick’s sister, she’d never really been one for girly relationships. Again the idea of becoming fond of someone when you never knew when they’d go away for a weekend and never come back. She’d decided a long time ago it was better to keep her distance.
But Maeve wasn’t keeping her distance, neither had she finished. ‘Seems a lot of effort for someone he doesn’t care about.’
Tara had no idea how to deal with this. With her acquaintances she’d just tell them to shut up but you couldn’t do that to Maeve—or she didn’t think it would work anyway. ‘Can we change the subject?’
‘Not until I give you some advice.’
Oh, no. ‘Do you have to? Please. I hate advice. Comes with having to sort yourself out all your life.’ She said it but now she knew Maeve better she doubted anything would stop her when she was on a roll. She almost wished for the washed-out, droopy dandelion Maeve had been before she’d recovered her spirits.
She looked again at the new, brighter Maeve and she knew she was happy her friend had found her equilibrium. Lyrebird Lake was doing its magic. So, no, she didn’t wish for droopy Maeve back.
Over the last few weeks, gradually they had become friends, good friends, if she dared to say it. She and Maeve had found lots to smile about. Lots to agree and not agree about and quirky, girly conversations that had often little to do with Simon. And, at Maeve’s request, nothing at all to do with Rayne, the father of Maeve’s baby.
‘Me? Not give advice?’ Maeve laughed at her.
Tara sighed. ‘But you’re not having this all your own way. I’ll listen to you if you tell me what you’re thinking about Rayne.’
Maeve blinked in shock and Tara grinned. ‘And if I have advice then you have to listen to me.’
Ha. Miss Bossy didn’t like it so much in return. But to give Maeve her due, she sat back with a grimace. ‘I was being pushy, wasn’t I?’ She shook her head and smiled wryly. ‘You haven’t seen this side of me yet but I’m not normally the pathetic wimp I’ve been since I came here.’
She looked around and then back at Tara. ‘You know what? You’re right. I do feel better since I came here. This place really is as amazing as Simon says it is.’
Tara looked around with fresh eyes. Made herself feel the moment. Smell the furniture polish. Taste the freshly brewed tea from the pot that Louisa had made before she’d gone out. Saw the little touches that spelt people cared. A Christmas nativity scene tucked in behind the bread basket. The growing pile of gifts under the tree. The photo frames of family that Louisa polished with her silver cloth every morning. ‘I think it’s the people.’
And Tara didn’t ever want to leave but she wasn’t expecting the world to be that perfect. ‘Yep. It’s amazing. And it is good to see you firing on all cylinders—even if you are a bit scary sometimes.’
‘Scary? Me? You should meet my oldest sister, Kate.’ Then Maeve showed she at least was focussed. ‘Seeing that you hate advice, I’ll keep it simple—and let you in on a secret.’
She sat forward, ready to impart her wisdom, and Tara pulled a face as she waited. ‘My sisters and I have decided Simon’s been hiding from a real romantic relationship all his life—he’s terrified the fairy-tale isn’t real.’
‘Um. I hate to tell you this, but it isn’t,’ Tara said, but Maeve ignored her.
‘Whether that came from our mother and his dad not staying together or the fact that he never knew his dad, we don’t know.’
She lowered her voice. ‘What we do know is that the right woman can help him come out from the place he’s been hiding all these years—but she has to get past the barriers.’
‘Barriers?’ Tara was lost. She had no idea what Maeve was talking about. She hadn’t noticed any barriers.
‘Not when-you-meet-him barriers. He’s too good a people person for that. It’s later. Whenever a woman is getting close, he’d discover some other place that needed him more than he needed her and bolt. She’d try and hold him, he’d spend less time with her, and then she’d give up and drop him. I’ve seen it time and again. But you’re different.’
Her? Tara? Different? She couldn’t help the tiny glow of warmth the words left in her chest. Then she thought it through and decided there was another reason she was different. Maybe because she didn’t expect people to want to look long term with her?
‘He’s scared of long term, Tara.’
Well, there you go. Maybe she was the right girl for him after all. She forced a smile. ‘I’m not presuming long-term.’ Had lost that expectation years ago.
‘Might be the way to getting it.’ Maeve looked at her.
That didn’t make sense. ‘You mean, actually say, Hi, Simon, I don’t expect long term?’ The fantasy was tragically attractive—but it was fantasy. But that didn’t mean one day it mightn’t happen. Did it?