Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal. Abigail Gordon
picked up a carrot stick and took a bite. Chewed and swallowed—not just the carrot but the tiny voluptuous shiver as well. Back under control. ‘He’s very handsome. But no ideas, Louisa. He’s an up-and-coming consultant here for a couple of weeks. And he’s far too nice for me.’
‘Silly girl. Of course he’s not, he’s just what you need.’ She turned and started humming again and Tara had to smile as she glanced out the window to the veranda looking over the lake. She wasn’t sure what that meant but she couldn’t get offended by Louisa’s mutterings—wouldn’t do her any good if she did.
Tara had never had the kind of hugging acceptance she’d found in the small semi-rural community and sometimes she had to remind herself it might even be okay to learn to care for these people.
Then reality would resurface and she knew it would be just like the past—something would happen, she’d have to leave under a cloud and she’d be forgotten.
But she’d always have her work now wherever she went, she reminded herself, the first stability she’d known since the orphanage, and attainment had been such a golden rush as she’d passed her last exam, and that was priceless.
While socially she might be a bit stunted, okay, she granted more than a little stunted, but the work side of her life here couldn’t be more satisfying with the midwifery-led birth centre.
She could finally do what she loved and, man, how she loved doing it. Loved the immersion in a woman’s world of childbirth, the total connection as she supported a woman through her most powerful time, and then the exclusion when that woman departed for home. Just like a foster-family and she was good at saying goodbye. Except unlike where she’d done her training in the city, you bumped into the women again in Lyrebird Lake, and she wasn’t quite used to that but it wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be.
Technically she was autonomous in that she had her own women to care for, under the aegis of Montana, the most senior midwife, and they case-conferenced once a week so everyone knew what was going on. She was an integral part of the team of midwives and doctors who worked in the adjoining hospital as well on quiet days, and they were always happy to be back-up for any obstetric hiccough. So she felt supported in her role and that she contributed. It was a heady feeling and she still couldn’t believe her luck.
Incredibly, everyone seemed as eager to learn new trends as she was, and everyone researched changes in medical practice and then helped others to learn too. There was also enough going on in the other half of the hospital to stay updated on the medical side. This place was a utopia for a fledgling midwife who planned to make her career her life.
In the six months she’d been here her professional confidence had grown along with her belief in women and her own attending skills.
The motto of the lake, ‘Listen to women,’ had been gently but firmly reinforced. Very different from her training hospital’s unwritten motto of ‘We know best for all women.’
She wondered what the gorgeous Simon’s philosophy was but coming from a busy practice working out of a major city hospital she had a fair suspicion.
Steady footsteps approached down the hallway and the object of her thoughts strolled into the room—which inexplicably seemed to shrink until he owned the majority of it—and she found herself basking in the warmth of his smile again.
Another unexpected flow of heat to the cheeks. Man, she’d never been a blusher. Thankfully, he turned the charm onto Louisa and Tara wilted back into her chair with relief.
She heard him say, ‘I might go for a wander along the lake, Louisa, and relax after the drive.’ He eased his neck as if it was kinked. ‘Maeve’s putting her feet up for an hour before this evening.’
Tara saw Louisa’s eyes glint with determination and not being known for subtlety, Tara’s stomach tightened, but it was too late. ‘Why don’t you join him, Tara? You always say it’s good to walk after a night shift.’
NOW, THAT WAS sink-into-the-floor-worthy. Tara could have glared at Louisa except the older lady didn’t have a mean bone in her soft little body. Instead she shook her head. ‘No. No. Simon will want to reacquaint himself. He doesn’t need me to hold his hand.’
‘I won’t hold your hand if you don’t want me to,’ he was teasing, but this time there was no hiding the connection and she closed her eyes.
When she opened them he was smiling quizzically at her, and grudgingly she accepted that as a recipient it didn’t feel as bad as it could have.
‘I don’t bite,’ he said. ‘I’d like the company but only if you want to.’
Growth experience. He thinks you’re a socially adept woman. That would be a first. She could do this. The guy worked with women all the time. Practise at least on a man who was skilled at putting women at ease. Made sense. ‘Fine. I can’t feel more embarrassed.’ She glanced at Louisa, who apparently didn’t bat an eyelid at putting her in the hot seat and was humming happily, satisfied two of her chickens were getting along.
She could almost smile at that. Tara picked up the sunglasses she’d left beside the window because she still suffered from that night-duty glare aversion that too little sleep left you with. Simon held the door open for her—something that happened a lot in the quaintness around here. A few months ago she would have been surprised but today she just murmured, ‘Thank you,’ and passed in front of him.
They’d turned out of the driveway before he spoke and surprisingly the silence wasn’t awkward. Thank goodness someone else didn’t mind peace and quiet. Years of keeping her own counsel had taught her the value of quiet time—but quiet time in the company of others was an added bonus she could savour. She didn’t think she’d met anyone she felt so in tune with so quickly. Though the air might be peaceful, it still vibrated between them.
Stop worrying, she admonished herself, a habit she’d picked up in the orphanage and on foster-parent weekends. Just let it be.
She looked ahead to where the path curled around the edge of the lake like a pale ribbon under the overhanging trees, and the water shimmered through the foliage like diamonds of blue glass in the ripples.
This place soothed her soul more than she could have ever imagined it would. Until unexpectedly a creature rustled in the undergrowth and her step faltered as it swished away from them into the safety of the water’s edge. Typical, she thought, there’s always a snake in the grass.
She shuddered. Snakes were the only creatures she disliked but that was probably because someone had put one in her bed once. ‘Hope that wasn’t something that can bite.’
Simon glanced after the noise. ‘No. Doubt it. Might even have been a lyrebird.’ He grinned. ‘Have they told you about the legend of the lyrebird?’ There was definitely humour in his deep voice. The man had a very easy soothing bass and she found herself listening more to the melody of the words than the content. Tried harder for the words.
‘Nope. You mean as in why they call the place Lyrebird Lake?’ She shrugged. ‘Not really into legends.’ Or fairy-tales. Or dreams of gorgeous men falling in love with her and carrying her off. Pshaw. Rubbish.
‘Ah. A disbeliever.’ He nodded his head sagely and she had to smile at his old-fashioned quaintness. ‘So you wouldn’t believe that in times of stress or, even more excitingly, when you meet your true love, a real live lyrebird appears and dances for you.’
Now she knew he was laughing at her. She rolled her eyes. ‘Well, I haven’t seen one and I’ve been here six months.’
‘Me either. And I’ve been coming here off and on for ten years.’ The smile was back in his voice. ‘But my father and Mia have.’
This time her brows rose and she had no doubt her healthy dollop of