A Special Kind of Family (4 page)

Of what? Sitting in this man’s kitchen eating more hot cross scones while he stayed out of her way?

Stupid. She was avoiding the inevitable. She had to go.

And Marilyn? If she was careful she could get her onto the back seat of Charles’s or her father’s car, she decided. Sure, they shouldn’t disrupt her but it was a whole lot better than putting her down. Which was the alternative.

‘You could ring the local animal shelter,’ Dom said, watching her face and seeing her indecision. ‘They might be able to do something.’

‘On the first day of a four-day holiday? An injured stray with hours-old puppies?’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll think of something.’ She rose to her feet. Feeling shaky. Feeling unaccountably desolate.

‘I’ll fetch some crutches from the surgery.’

‘Thank you.’

‘We can be your crutches,’ Martin said stoically. But he was looking doubtful. ‘Are you taking the puppies away?’

‘They’re Erin’s puppies,’ Dom said.

‘Does she want them?’ Martin looked at Erin with eyes that said he’d been lied to in the past. His clear, green eyes were challenging.

‘Of course I want them,’ Erin said, forcing brightness. And then
she glanced out into the hall and saw the heap of doggie contentment by the door. ‘Of course I want them,’ she reiterated, sounding more sure of herself. ‘It’s just a matter of convincing my family.’

Her family en masse—including Charles’s parents—were appalled. Erin tried to downplay the accident—a skid on a wet road to avoid a dog—but for her extended family, even a minor incident had the power to dredge up fearsome memories. It took a while to assure her mother she wasn’t hurt, honest, it had been a minor accident, and, no, she didn’t need their help, she only needed someone to fetch her.

Her mother put Charles on. So Charles hadn’t told them what had happened between them? Or maybe he had but he’d explained she was being silly. Hormonal, he’d said the last time she’d seen him, which had made her want to hit him.

By the time she spoke to Charles she was emotionally wrung out. She didn’t have energy left to explain she still had Marilyn.

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ Charles said, and she knew she’d shaken him as well. She knew he’d come fast.

She didn’t want Charles. She wanted her dad to come, but of course they acted as a team.

They all cared for her. They cared for her so well she felt…stifled.

The doorbell pealed while she was getting dressed and her feeling of oppression deepened. But then she thought, surely Charles couldn’t be here already.

Maybe it was another patient. Maybe it was another need for Dom to face this Easter.

If he was called out…Maybe she could stay with the boys for a while, she thought. As a thank-you gesture. Charles wouldn’t mind waiting. He could have one of her hot cross scones.

She hauled her windcheater over her head and opened the living-room door with caution. Dom was at the front door, facing a stranger.

The man in the doorway was long, lanky and unkempt. He was maybe six feet four or so. He had limp, dirty hair that hung in dreadlocks to his shoulders. He was wearing tattered clothes and frayed sandals, and in his hands he was holding the biggest Easter egg Erin had ever seen. As big as two footballs, the thing was wider than he was.

‘I’m here to see Nathan,’ the man snapped, and then started coughing. Dom took the egg and waited until the coughing ceased.

‘Nathan,’ he called down the passage.

Marilyn was right behind him in the hall, between Erin and the front door, between Dom and Erin. As he glanced backward past the dog, Dom’s eyes met Erin’s. He gave her a blank stare—the sort of look doctors gave each other in the emergency department to say caution, act with care.

Nathan came running out of the kitchen. He saw who was at the front door—and stopped.

‘Here’s your dad,’ Dom said, gently, Erin noticed. ‘I think he’s brought you a present.

‘I can tell my kid that myself,’ the man said, aggressively.

‘Would you like to come in?’ Dom asked. He gestured to Marilyn. ‘Sorry about the mess. Our dog gave birth to puppies last night in just the wrong place.’

Our dog?
Okay, maybe anything else would be too hard to explain, Erin conceded. For now Marilyn was communal property.

‘I’m not coming in,’ the man growled. ‘This place gives me the creeps.’

‘It’s a safe house, Dad,’ Nathan said in a small voice. ‘No one hits you here.’

There was moment’s deathly silence. The man seemed to freeze.

‘No one hits you anywhere,’ the man said finally, in a voice that said he didn’t believe it himself.

No one responded.

‘How’s the methadone programme going?’ Dom asked, and the man’s anger returned.

‘Bloody stuff doesn’t work. You know that.’

‘So you’re using again?’

‘Yeah, but I want the kid.’

‘You know the courts said you need to be clear for three months before they’ll consider it. Methadone and testing—you know the drill. We’ve been through it over and over. People are trying to help you.’

‘F…do-gooders.’

‘It’s all we can do, Michael,’ Dom said wearily. ‘Would you like some breakfast?’

‘Nah. I just want to give the kid the egg.’ He held it toward Nathan, not moving an inch inside the house. ‘Come on, Nathe,’ he said in a wheedling voice. ‘I bought it good and proper. With me pension money.’

‘It’s pretty big,’ Nathan said, but he didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked close to tears.

‘So come and get it,’ Michael said.

Nathan edged forward along the hallway, inching his way past Marilyn. But it wasn’t the dog he was scared of, Erin thought. When he reached Michael his face was bleached white. Dom’s hand came down to rest on his shoulder.

‘Hey, it’s good that your dad’s brought you an egg,’ he said.

‘Y-yeah.’ Nathan took a deep breath, as if searching for courage. He reached out and the egg was shoved into his arms.

‘There,’ Michael said, satisfied. ‘You can’t say I don’t have contact with him. Can you?’ he demanded of Dom belligerently.

‘Of course I can’t,’ Dom said. ‘But if you want custody you need to get serious about the methadone programme.’

‘Yeah, yeah. After Easter. When I get me life in order a bit. But me and a mate are going surfing.’ He glanced out to the street where an ancient purple kombi van was clearly waiting for him. ‘I’d love to take you, Nathe.’

‘Yes,’ Nathan said, but his hand crept into Dom’s and held it.

The man noticed. His face darkened with anger. ‘Why, you little…’

‘Nathan’s had flu,’ Dom said quickly as the man’s hand raised. ‘He’s had almost a week off school.’

It was enough to deflect Michael. His hand paused.

‘My kid’s been sick? Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I left a message at your boarding house.’

‘I haven’t been there for weeks.’ Out on the street whoever was driving the van was clearly getting impatient. There was a long, loud blast of the horn.

‘I hope the surf’s great,’ Dom said neutrally, and Michael cast him an uncertain look—deciding, Erin thought, whether to stoke his anger or not. And finally, blessedly, deciding not.

‘Yeah, it will be,’ he said at last. ‘I gotta go. But, Nathe, remember I gave you the egg. I do what I can. Love ya, mate.’ And he wheeled away and half ran back to the van. Leaving Nathan clutching Dominic’s hand.

This was none of her business. She should go back into her sitting cum bedroom. But she was too interested to retreat.

Dom and Nathan stayed with their backs to her, watching the van disappear. Nathan didn’t release Dominic’s hand. When finally the sound of the van retreated to silence he glanced up at Dom and his small face was a mess of tears. ‘The Easter Bunny won’t come now.’

‘Yeah, he will,’ Dom said, placid in the face of the little boy’s distress. ‘You know the rules. If the Easter Bunny sees you eating an egg before Sunday he knows he doesn’t need to deliver eggs. But lots of people give eggs before Sunday. Three of my patients left me eggs and they’re sitting on my desk right now. I just have to be very good and not eat them.’

‘So I can’t eat Dad’s egg?’

‘Not until Sunday. Not if you want the bunny to come,’ Dom said, with all the gravity in the world.

He was great, Erin thought.

He was…gorgeous?

Um…what? Where had that come from? Gorgeous? Hardly appropriate.

Or, actually, incredibly appropriate. The man’s kindness made her blink back tears. Sexy came in all forms. Sexy came in the guise of a guy holding a little boy by the hand and discussing the Easter Bunny with the same gravity he might accord World Peace.

‘I guess,’ Nathan was saying, still doubtful.

‘It’s true. All you need do is put it with the others that we’ll eat after Easter.’

‘Okay,’ Nathan said, his face finally clearing as he decided to believe. Then he added, ‘I’m glad he’s gone. Will he come back soon?’

‘I don’t know, Nathe,’ Dom admitted, and the little boy’s face clouded.

‘He might,’ he whispered. But then the clouds disappeared again. ‘But he said he was going surfing for Easter and that’s days and days. He won’t come back till after the Easter bunny’s been. I’ll tell Martin.’

And he handed his egg to Dom, edged past the bundle of canine contentment on the floor and scooted off to find his…brother?

She didn’t think so. A few assumptions were being stood on their heads this morning.

Dom was standing in the hallway holding the egg. It really was ridiculously large.

Marilyn snoozed at his feet, with her three puppies. Erin could hear Nathan talking to Martin back in the kitchen.

How many responsibilities did this man have?

‘The boys are your…foster-kids?’ she ventured, and he nodded. He was watching her, an expression on his face like he couldn’t figure her out.

‘What?’ she said.

He shook his head as if clearing fog. ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Um…yeah, they’re my foster-kids.’

‘But you don’t have a wife.’

‘You don’t need a wife to foster kids.’

‘I thought…’

‘If I wanted to adopt a cute baby with no strings attached then, yeah, I’d need to be married. I’d need references practically from the Pope himself. But I take kids when there’s a problem—a reason they need closer supervision than even foster-parents can give. If I’m willing to take a kid like Martin, whose mother’s disappeared but who might surface at any minute, in any state, or Nathan, whose dad is…well, like you saw him, then there’s not so much competition that you’d notice. References from the Pope might be waived.’

‘But you’re a doctor. Part time?’ she ventured.

‘In this town? Full time and part time as well.’ Then, as her confusion became obvious, he added, ‘It’s manageable. I have a great housekeeper and the boys come with me a lot. They come here traumatised, caught up in their own dysfunctional worlds. With me they see lots of other worlds, many of them just as dysfunctional, but I give them a solid base. I give them rules and I give them a hug when they need one.’

He broke off as the doorbell pealed again. Nathan’s head emerged from the kitchen, looking fearful.

‘It’s okay, Nathe,’ he said. ‘Hop it. I’ll deal with it.’

Nathan disappeared. Dom tugged the door wide.

It was Charles. Six feet two, blond and tanned, wearing cream chinos, a quality linen shirt with top buttons casually unfastened, and soft leather boat shoes. He really was absurdly handsome, Erin thought. Behind him, in the driveway, was his Porsche. Sleek and handsome as he was.

Charles was a general physician whose patients numbered some of the wealthiest people in Melbourne. He knew what he wanted in life, did Charles, and he didn’t like hiccups.

What was happening now was clearly a hiccup, and it was the second hiccup in a week. The first had been on Tuesday when she’d knocked back his very reasonable request to marry him.

‘Erin.’ He looked straight past Dominic, seeing only her. His glance took her in, from her bare toes to her hair, still tangled and wet from the shower. ‘My God. You said you weren’t hurt. The crutches…’

‘I cut my foot,’ she said, and managed a smile. ‘Lots of little scratches. They’ll heal fast and I already look a lot better than I did last night. Charles, this is Dr Dominic Spencer. He came to my rescue.’

‘I’m very grateful,’ Charles said, and gripped Dom’s hand in what Erin knew would be an exceedingly manly handshake. ‘Not that there was any need. If she’d just phoned…’

He
was grateful. As if he owned her. What more did she have to say to cut herself loose? ‘I told you,’ she explained, when he turned on his reproachful look on her. ‘I lost my cellphone, and by the time I got here it was three in the morning. I didn’t want to worry Mum and Dad.’

‘They’re worried now,’ Charles said, reproving. ‘Crashing the car—for a dog. Honestly, Erin, you know not to swerve for animals. You know better than most what tragedy crashes can cause. But I won’t say anything. If you’re ready, we’ll leave. We’ll take a look at your car on the way, see what we can salvage and ring the insurance people before we do anything. That car’s practically new. I don’t want it looted.’

I don’t want it looted
. The proprietary thing was automatic.

She should never have let it get this far, she thought bleakly. But it had happened so gradually she hadn’t noticed. According to Charles, her parents had always assumed they’d marry. His parents had always assumed they’d marry. So had Charles.

It was only when he’d suggested they break the news to the parents this Easter and maybe take a family excursion to buy the ring that she’d realised how far those assumptions had gone.

Was marriage supposed to be like this? An assumption that it’d be good for all concerned?

So on Tuesday she’d tried to explain it but he’d simply smiled at her like an avuncular big brother. ‘It’s only nerves. It’s okay. Come home at Easter and we’ll discuss it.’

She so nearly hadn’t come. But her parents were already staying with Charles’s parents. They’d been planning this Easter for months. They’d all be so upset…

Charles was smiling at her. Waiting for an answer. Ready to start his very reasonable discussion again.