Needed: Full-Time Father (Medical Romance) Page 7

  ‘Who has?’ Madison asked faintly, doing bunny-hops all the way to school.

  ‘Helen’s new boyfriend. He’s a carpenter!’

  ‘OK?’

  Opening her door, she was greeted by the single word, and even though Madison automatically nodded, midway it changed and she gave a tight shrug. ‘I don’t actually know.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Guy said softly. ‘And if you’re not, I’ve got a very good plan B.’

  ‘Plan B?’ Madison frowned.

  ‘If it looks like you’re about to lose it, I’ll save you the embarrassment and pretend to faint or something—everyone will be so busy looking at me, they’ll forget about you.’

  ‘Please,’ Madison scoffed, but amazingly her pale face, for the first time that hateful morning, was smiling. ‘Come in. I’m nearly ready.’

  Holding the door open, she stood back as he walked in, her generous hallway seeming to shrink as Guy walked down it. Until now she’d only ever seen him in either jeans or theatre greens, but dressed in a black suit, his unruly blond hair neatly combed, still damp from the shower, and even in Madison’s tense, introspective state, there was no denying Guy looked stunning. His broad shoulders seemed to fill the hallway, his features were accentuated more with his hair slicked back, and when he entered her living room, and turned and smiled at her, Madison could feel her breath catching in her throat.

  ‘You have a nice home.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Madison responded to the pleasantry, but Guy was still looking around, taking in the scattered bright cushions on the sofa, the jumble of crayons and picture books on the coffee-table, framed photographs adorning every available surface.

  ‘I mean that, it’s a real home.’

  ‘Of course it is.’ Madison gave a slightly nervous laugh. ‘What were you expecting?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Guy admitted. ‘Something more…’ he gave a helpless shrug ‘…immaculate, I guess. Not that it’s untidy or anything,’ he added quickly. ‘I guess, from the way your office is, the way you are at work, I figured your home would be the same.’

  ‘This is immaculate.’ Madison smiled. ‘For me, anyway. I tidied up for two hours last night because you were coming. I’m a control freak at work, not at home. Believe me, when you’re sharing a house with a five-year-old, you soon learn to let go.’ She gave a dry smile, remembering that morning’s conversation with her daughter, and suddenly, inexplicably almost, wanted to share it with Guy, but sensibly chose not to. ‘Do you want a coffee?’ Madison asked. ‘We’ve got plenty of time.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Madison admitted. ‘I’d rather be nervous here than there.’ He followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the bench and watching as she spooned coffee and sugar into cups, noting at first her jerky, nervous movements, but more, more than that, he noticed the bright paintings on the fridge, no doubt done by her daughter. The whiteboard above the telephone accounted for every moment of every day, and as she opened the cupboard to pull out sugar to top up the sugar bowl, he couldn’t help but see that, aside from the crisps and biscuits, the children’s cereal and all the paraphernalia that lived in a working mother’s kitchen cupboards, on one lonely shelf stood an endless row of meals for one, the same meals he’s watched her throw in the microwave at lunchtime. Something told him the same thing happened in the evenings.

  ‘How are you doing with this?’ Madison asked, when finally they were seated in the lounge, her eyes nervously darting towards the clock, knowing that in a short space of time they would have to leave, have to face what she was dreading. ‘From the way Gerard spoke of you, you were pretty close. Did you work together?’

  ‘Once formally,’ Guy replied. ‘But over the last few years I’ve called on him hundreds of times, either by phone or the internet, for advice. I’ve done a lot of AID work overseas. I’m sure that you don’t need me to tell you how generous Gerard was with his knowledge—I could always call on him. It’s a shame we didn’t get to work together again. I was really looking forward to it.’

  ‘Was that why you took the job—to work alongside Gerard?’ Madison asked. ‘I mean, if you’ve worked overseas, seen so much, a suburban hospital is hardly going to be cutting edge.’

  ‘That was part of the reason, and a new hospital opens up an interesting set of challenges, which are appealing. I guess I figured that it will look good on my résumé,’ Guy admitted. ‘Though I have to say, after years of tarpaulin and mosquito nets, the thought of a key to my own front door, constant running hot water—even a mortgage—has actually started to appeal.’

  ‘You’ve had enough of travelling?’ Madison asked.

  ‘For now.’

  ‘So, how come you settled here? Are your family in Melbourne?’

  ‘No.’ Fiddling with his coffee-cup, Guy shook his head, and even though he clearly didn’t want to talk about his reasons for settling, Madison was scared he’d look at his watch and decide that it was time to go. Taking a deep breath, despite Guy’s reluctance to prolong the conversation, Madison pushed on anyway.

  ‘So where are they?’ Madison asked. As his shoulders stiffened, she immediately regretted her insensitivity. ‘Your family?’

  ‘There’s only my mother,’ Guy responded stiffly. ‘She’s in India—again.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Apparently she’s “finding herself”.’

  ‘Oh.’ Madison blinked, not really knowing what to say, but Guy now had plenty.

  ‘One would have hoped that by the time you reached fifty-two, you’d have “found yourself”, wouldn’t you?’ His eyes jerked to hers and Madison found herself frowning at the pain behind his voice.

  ‘You’d hope so,’ she said tentatively. ‘What does your mother do—for a living, I mean?’

  ‘She’s a doctor. She specialises in tropical and infectious diseases.’

  ‘Is that how you got into AID work?’

  ‘I’ve been into it since I was six months old,’ Guy responded. When Madison’s eyebrows shot up somewhere into her hairline, he elaborated further. ‘Mum was into AID work before it was even remotely trendy. She’s done a lot in Papua New Guinea and some of the small islands. Most of the time she took me with her.’

  ‘But what about school?’

  ‘There were teachers here and there, a lot of books. Mum’s extremely clever—she taught me well, though, thankfully when I was sixteen I boarded here in Melbourne, which meant I could concentrate on getting good enough grades to study medicine.’

  Which was no mean feat. Places at medical school were exceptionally hard to come by, and to get in with only two years of formal education was nothing short of amazing.

  ‘So you don’t actually have relatives here in Melbourne?’ Madison asked, and for some reason she didn’t want to fathom, the question unnerved her. If he had no one here, there really wasn’t much reason to stay, and there was something about Guy, something about this confident yet closed man that intrigued her, something about him that evoked a response she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

  He paused for a long time before answering, enough time for Madison to process her jumbled thoughts, to realise that she actually wanted him to stay, wanted to get to know him better. ‘There’s no one,’ he said finally. Looking at his watch, she could almost feel the sigh of relief from him that this conversation was over, that now he could legitimately stand up and tell her that they had better get going.

  Pulling on some black court shoes, Madison checked her lipstick in the hall mirror, rued the fact she had even bothered with mascara and fiddled with her hair for a moment. Guy stood patiently at the door, perhaps sensing that it had nothing to do with vanity and everything to do with remaining in control, with taking care of the small details and hoping that if she did, the bigger ones would fall into place.

  ‘Ready?’

  Tears flashed in her eyes as she nodded and headed for the front door, her hands shaking so much she could barely lock the blessed thing b
ehind her. She joined him in his dark sports car and felt the tension increasing as he switched on the engine and they drove the short distance to the church. The street was packed with cars, endless people were milling around in dark suits, even darker glasses shielding both tears and the harsh Australian morning sun. Madison rummaged in her handbag for her own sunglasses, noting that Guy already had his on. Staring down at his hands, she saw the white of his knuckles as he gripped the steering-wheel and it wasn’t just about herself any more and how she was going to get through this, but about Guy, too, about a man who had also lost a friend and colleague.

  ‘Let’s do this,’ she whispered, opening the car door and stepping out, waving and talking in a subdued voice to the endless stream of familiar faces. All of them wanted to be here, but not one of whom could quite believe that they really were.

  And, as most fears were, when faced head on, it wasn’t bad. It was awful and sad, but it wasn’t the nightmare Madison had envisaged. Surprising herself, she managed to sing along to the hymns, focussing on Gerard instead of her own painful memories. Exquisitely aware of Guy standing straight and tall next to her, they read from the same hymn book, Guy holding it, Guy turning the page, so all Madison had to do was concentrate on herself, drawing strength from his presence, glad that someone knew her plight. She was able to finally relax enough to listen as Gerard’s son rose to speak about his father, even managing a smile as somehow he managed to capture some of Gerard’s funnier traits. She looked at Guy and was appalled to see a tear rolling down his cheek, could feel the tension in his body. In an instinctive gesture her hand reached out to his, her fingers coiling around his. She bit her lip as for a fleeting second he held on.

  ‘I’ll be fine.’ Guy gave a stiff nod as he mouthed the words, reclaiming his hand and staring fixedly ahead. ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Here.’ Pressing a massive brandy into Madison’s hand, Guy nodded a greeting to a couple of people he must have recognised, before turning his attention back to Madison. A buffet and drinks had been put on at the hospital, but now an invited few were back at the family home and Madison watched as Guy fiddled with his black tie, clearly uncomfortable, the small talk having dried up long ago. ‘How long do you think we should stay?’

  ‘Not long,’ Madison answered, looking around at the thinning crowd. ‘In fact, I think it might be appropriate if we leave now.’

  ‘You don’t mind?’ Guy checked. ‘I only just got you a drink.’

  ‘I’ve had two brandies already on the emptiest stomach in the world. I’m certainly not going to get through this one!’

  ‘Right, let’s say goodbye, then.’

  The farewells were difficult somehow. Even though Madison knew she had done everything she could to help Gerard, Yvonne’s obvious discomfort as she and Guy approached caused a pang of anxiety as Madison said goodbye.

  ‘You did your best,’Yvonne said kindly. ‘You did everything humanly possible, and for that we’re very grateful.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Madison dusted Yvonne’s cheek with her lips. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’

  She waited for Guy, stood at the door expecting to stand for a couple of moments as he said his goodbyes, but after a brief handshake with Gerard’s son and a small murmur of farewell to Yvonne, Guy was beside her, taking her arm and leading her out to the car.

  ‘Is everything—?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ Guy answered stiffly, but Madison wasn’t convinced, and once they were seated in the car, before he turned on the engine Madison voiced what was on her mind.

  ‘Is she upset with us, Guy? Do you think she somehow blames us for not doing more?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Guy shrugged. ‘Look, Yvonne and I…’ His jaw clenched, his mouth snapping closed on the words. ‘She doesn’t blame you at all, Madison, no one does.’

  ‘But she was so wooden, so—’

  ‘She just lost her husband,’ Guy snapped, then instantly regretted it. ‘Look, Madison, it’s me she doesn’t like, not you.’

  And though she’d have loved to have asked more, something in Guy’s expression told her the subject was closed, something in his stance told her to leave things well alone.

  They drove in tense silence to Madison’s house and, despite the relief that the hard part of the day was over, all of a sudden Madison didn’t want it to end. Turning shyly to him, she offered him coffee.

  ‘I’m not much company at the moment,’ Guy responded.

  ‘Neither am I.’ Madison smiled. ‘We can be morose together.’

  The awful thing about funerals, Madison decided, was that they were generally held in the morning. In some ways it served its purpose, meant that you didn’t spend the whole day dreading the event, but because it was a funeral, because it was such a big event, the whole day was generally set aside to accommodate it. Helen was giving Emily dinner tonight so she had the whole afternoon and evening to fill, and as Madison stepped back into her home with Guy it seemed almost incomprehensible that it was only just two o’clock. The house was impossibly warm and Madison flicked on the air-conditioner, the whirring sound breaking the oppressive silence. ‘I’ll make us some coffee,’ Madison said as Guy sat down on the sofa, loosening his tie as if it were choking him.

  ‘What time do you pick your daughter up from school?’

  ‘I’m not—my friend is having her for dinner.’

  He didn’t say anything, but she could almost feel the tiny sting of condemnation that beat in the air, and even though Madison didn’t have to justify herself to anyone, least of all Guy Boyd, she wanted to.

  ‘I don’t usually rely so heavily on my friend, Guy. This week was always going to be difficult, and I’d made arrangements in advance for Emily to spend some extra time at Helen’s.’

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ Guy pointed out, but Madison stopped him right there.

  ‘You didn’t have to. Guy, I’m a single mother and I owe it to my daughter to give her a decent standard of living. I have to work, but I make sure I’m home a lot, too.’

  ‘I know.’ Guy nodded. ‘I mean, I don’t know, but I can see from this house, from the way you talk about her…’ He gave a tight shrug. ‘It’s not for me to judge.’

  ‘No, Guy,’ Madison said firmly. ‘It isn’t.’

  Going out to the kitchen, Madison set about making coffee, trying and failing not to let Guy’s carefully unvoiced insinuation rile her.

  Emily came first, last and always.

  Emily was the reason she was stuck in an office half the day instead of being out on the floor. Emily was the reason she had striven for an NUM position, to enable her to be home in the mornings and evenings, to give her each and every weekend off. Madison forcibly pushed it all to one side, consoling herself that the most responsible thing Guy Boyd would ever have had to do was to remember to take his antimalaria tablets. What would a man like him know about mortgages and gas bills and dancing lessons? What would he know about rates and schoolbooks and the million and one things that were processed in a woman’s life?

  Hell, it was hot!

  Peeling off her jacket, Madison looked down at the black camisole she was wearing, wondering if it was appropriate, then gave a tiny impatient shake of her head at her train of thought. Her trusty but rather old air-conditioner wasn’t going to cool the place down in the next few minutes, and a lined suit was hard work at the best of times, let alone on a thirty-plus degree day. Slipping out of her shoes, Madison finally felt herself relax. Padding back to the living room in her stockinged feet, carefully balancing a tray, she saw Guy on the sofa and, despite the fact it was her own home, Madison felt as if she were somehow intruding, as if she were snooping, because, clearly not having heard her approach, Guy was sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, his shoulders slumped, such a picture of desolation her first instinct was to cross the room and comfort him. But instead she stepped back out of the doorway and gave a small cough to announce her arrival, and this time when she ent
ered he was sitting up straight, a false, strained smile on his lips.

  Kneeling down by the coffee-table, she attempted to spoon sugar into the coffee, but her hand was shaking so much she spilled most of it. She had a burning awareness of him behind her, and for the second time in as many minutes questioned her decision to wear only a camisole, because the burning weight of his eyes was scorching through the flimsy fabric on the back of her neck. And though she couldn’t see him, as if by telepathy she could feel him, feel the presence of him, an awareness that engulfed her, the air so thick now she had to drag it into her lungs. She anticipated, before his fingers brushed the back of her neck, what was about to happen. As he traced the length of her neck, dusted his fingers over her shoulder, her first sensible thought was to jerk away, to demand that he stop, but a deeper instinct held her still, held her transfixed, almost willing his hand on, scared almost to move, to speak, to even breathe, scared to break the moment.

  A delicious heat spread over her shoulders as his index finger traced her clavicle. It was the smallest, gentlest of touches, but it was exquisitely erotic, just the contact of his skin on hers, the tip of his finger over the flickering pulse in the hollow of her throat physically weakened her. Madison’s eyes closed in silent acknowledgement of a basic, primitive need she had held back for so long now, one she had denied even existed. But as her face turned to him, as his strong silent eyes held her tremulous ones, the tension that had held her together to this point seemed to dissolve. Emotion she had pushed back for so long bubbled to the fore. Transfixed, she stared, a heady mixture of terror and excitement going through her as his lips moved toward hers. She could smell, taste the arousal in the air. Anticipating the weight of his mouth on hers, she parted her own lips slightly and took a tiny breath as the bruising feel of his mouth met hers, the scratch of his chin dragging her cheek, the sharp, unfamiliar taste of him, the cool of his tongue as gently he parted her lips further. And it didn’t make sense, it could never be understood or explained to the rational side of her brain, but it felt so right.