A Special Kind of Family (6 page)

She’d had over twenty years of sorry. Surely that was enough. Sorry was doing her head in.

‘I mean it,’ Dom said, and went inside and closed the door.

Erin closed her eyes. Actually…the way Dom was making her feel was doing her head in.

‘Erin, what the hell’s going on?’ Charles said. ‘You’re behaving like a child.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Don’t tell me—’

‘No, don’t tell me,’ she snapped. ‘Enough. I’m sorry you’ve all got the wrong idea. You’re my friend, Charles, but you’re not my lover. And while I love my parents—and I love your parents—and I even love you in a way, but not in the way you figure I should—I need to get on with my life.
My
life.’

He was staring at her like she’d suddenly turned green and sprouted horns. She must have been really wimpy up until now, she thought. Why had it taken so long to stand on her own two feet?

‘It’s this guy, isn’t it?’ he demanded. ‘This is crazy.’

‘It’s not Dom. I only met him last night, and what I’m saying to you now has been coming for a while. Maybe it’s about twenty
years overdue.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Okay. Thank you for coming to get me, but I’m not coming with you. I need to figure myself out first. I’ll ring Mum tonight. Meanwhile tell them I’m fine, but I was put up last night by a doctor who’s the sole medical professional for fifty miles. I’d like to repay him by helping out with his kids and with his practice over Easter. If he doesn’t want that, then I’ll go back to Melbourne.’

‘With him?’ He said
him
like he was referring to some sort of pond scum.

‘
He
…Dominic…offered to find someone to drive me to Melbourne. He didn’t offer to drive me himself. There’s nothing between us, Charles. How can there be?’ She took a deep breath. ‘But despite that…Dom’s been wonderful. He’s a…a…really wonderful doctor. I need to make the offer. If he wants me, I’m staying on.’

When she came back inside Dom was sitting in the kitchen munching on another of Erin’s scones. The kids were waving goodbye to Dulcie from the back veranda. Dom glanced out the window and Charles’s Porsche was disappearing down the road. What the hell…?

‘He’s gone without you,’ he said, warily.

‘You said there was someone who could drive me to Melbourne.’ She hesitated. ‘That is, if you don’t want me to stay.’

He’d been about to take a bite of his scone. He didn’t. ‘Um…If I don’t want you to stay?’

‘I sort of thought I might be useful,’ she said, sounding uncertain. ‘Seeing Tansy’s away. If there are more emergencies. If you want me to.’

‘Is this because of the dog?’

She tilted her chin at that, a gesture he was starting to recognise. ‘I have friends in Melbourne who’d take her in. For a few days at least until I’m sorted. But I’m offering to stay here for Easter. Only if you can use me, though. I won’t stay unless I can be useful.’

She wanted to stay for Easter?

The thought took his breath away.

There were all sorts of reactions Dom ought to be feeling.

He ought to be furious she’d landed not only her dog but also herself in his care.

He ought to be wary. Charles’s body language had been un-mistakeably possesive. There was no way he wanted to be landed in a domestic dispute and this had the makings of a doozy.

He ought to be cautious about…well, about the way she was looking right now. She was a qualified doctor—a colleague—but she looked a waif. And then he thought, no. She was wearing torn jeans and a stained windcheater. She’d ditched his boots by the door and was wearing a pair of his too-big socks.

What she looked was really extraordinarily beautiful, but there was no room in his life for what he was thinking right now.

Except he was thinking it. What warm-blooded male could help but think it?

‘So you won’t kick me out?’ she asked, and her eyes warmed, just a little. As if she guessed his thought.

How could she?

‘You cook a mean hot cross scone,’ he said, cautious.

‘I can do all sorts of neat tricks,’ she said. ‘Mind, I’m a bit restricted.’ She sat down and held up a socked foot. ‘I think my dressing’s coming off.’

‘I’ll re-dress it. Do you need a painkiller?’

‘Yes,’ she said promptly. ‘Painkiller first. Then dressing.’

‘You’re telling me how to practise medicine?’

‘I’m bossy,’ she retorted, recovering spirit. ‘You need to learn that about me. I plan to run a very efficient emergency department.’

‘Run?’

‘I accepted the top job last week.’ She tried not to sound cocky—and failed. He had to smile.

‘Where?’

‘Melbourne East Emergency.’

‘How old are you?’ he demanded, astonished, and it was her turn to grin.

‘How rude. Next you’ll be asking about my love life.’

‘I’m assuming your love life is currently driving off in a huff and a Porsche.’

‘How insightful. Driving off into the sunset.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll make a great spinster. I’d planned to keep cats but now…maybe it’s bulldogs.’

‘You’re serious?’

‘Serious?’

‘Your boyfriend’s angry?’

‘He is so not my boyfriend,’ she said, and glowered. ‘He sort of assumed he was—he assumed all sorts of things—and when I realised…’ She shrugged. ‘Sorry. This is not your problem.’

‘So…’ He wasn’t sure where this was going. ‘Your plan is?’

‘To help you,’ she said. ‘If you admit you need help. Which, seeing you’re male, might be difficult but if you try hard I’m thinking you might come round.’

She smiled.

Her smile was extraordinary.

This woman’s life, whichever way he looked at it, was in turmoil. In the last twelve hours she’d almost died, she’d been thrown into someone else’s Easter, she’d gained a dog and she seemed to have lost a perfectly good boyfriend. And yet she could still smile.

He was feeling…stunned, he thought. He was feeling like the wisest course was to get her out of here fast.

‘You have a house in Melbourne?’

‘I have a hospital apartment. On the fourth floor.’

‘So that means…’

‘I guess I have to find another place to live.’

‘You’re swapping Charles for Marilyn?’

‘Hey, I’m not living with Charles,’ she said. ‘I’m not even
sleeping with him. He’s just assumed all sorts of things I wasn’t assuming. You know, I suspect my life’s been leading up to this moment for years. I’ve spent my life pleasing my parents, pleasing my family, pleasing Charles. Then, this week, two shocks. A proposal of marriage. A near-death car crash. It’s enough to give any girl an epiphany.’

‘An epiphany,’ he said faintly.

‘Yep. Um…You know that painkiller?’

‘Your foot really does hurt?’

‘My foot really does hurt.’

Excellent. When in doubt, revert to priorities. Triage. Sore foot.

‘Okay, painkillers,’ he said, rising. ‘You want me to carry you to the surgery?’

‘Nope,’ she said. ‘No more of that, thank you very much. If I’m to be stuck here for Easter, I intend to be independent.’

‘Fine,’ he said, and had to suppress a jab of disappointment. Lifting Erin last night had been…an epiphany?

It wasn’t anything of the sort, he told himself. It was simply because he was a male and she was a female and he’d been alone too damned long. Of course his body would react like…like it really wanted to get to know Erin better.

‘No,’ she said, and he blinked.

‘Pardon?’

‘Um…’ She blushed suddenly and he stared down at her, fascinated.

‘No, what?’ he repeated, and she blushed some more.

‘I didn’t…I mean I was probably mistaken in what you were thinking. But if I’m not…’ she said, fighting for recovery and becoming suddenly astringent. ‘If I’m not then definitely no. Let’s get back to basics. Do you want me?’

Did he want her? Yes and yes and yes.

‘And enough of that, too,’ she said astringently. ‘You know very well what I meant. Do you want me as kid sitter, dog minder and medical associate over Easter?’
‘Yes,’ he said. And he wasn’t saying a word more. This woman saw too much.

‘Then painkillers followed by lunch,’ she said. ‘And then the boys and I might like to try making another batch of hot cross buns. This time with yeast. While you go and do your doctoring, wherever you do your doctoring.’

‘I’ve told the locals I can’t come out at Easter.’

‘Then do your doctoring in your surgery,’ she told him. ‘Or paperwork or something. The boys and I will be in the kitchen. You’re free to do as you like.’

‘And if I want to be in the kitchen?’

‘That’s your choice,’ she said, suddenly prim. ‘But I’m offering you freedom to get your work done. It’s my thanks for having me and Marilyn to stay. If you want to throw a gift horse in the mouth…’

‘I believe that’s look.’

‘Sorry?’

‘You don’t throw gift horses,’ he said, and suddenly she was pink again. He liked it, he decided. He really, really liked it.

‘Whatever,’ she said, sounding suddenly breathless. ‘Same difference. All I’m saying, Dr Spencer, is that you’re free to do what you want. Treat me as your cook and child companion for Easter and get on with your life.’

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he managed, and put a hand down to help her up.

She stared at it, appearing to consider. Then she slowly shook her head.

‘Nope,’ she said. ‘While we’re on platitudes…I don’t intend to jump out of any frying pan into the fire.’ Martin and Nathan were back at the door, looking hopeful. ‘Boys, can you help me up?’

She turned her gaze away from his, she waited until the little boys gave her a hand apiece and she let them haul her to her feet.

While Dom looked on, feeling…jealous?

Ridiculous.

But jealous all the same.

E
VER
since Tansy had told him she needed to take this time off, Dom had been dreading Easter. Normally the boys would be at school, and there’d be other kids’ mothers he could call on to help. But Easter…nearly everyone was away or busy. He had Dulcie next door but Dulcie had her brother and sister-in-law visiting. She could come in for a real emergency but otherwise he was on his own.

Not only was he alone but the boys were bored. Their school friends were away. He didn’t have time to spend with them and these kids were high maintenance.

But then came Erin. After he re-dressed her foot she settled into the kitchen. She downloaded hot cross bun recipes from the internet, discussed their merits with the boys, tried to figure why his might have failed—consensus was he’d warmed the dough in a too-hot oven—and then decreed she and the boys would try a recipe apiece. Luckily Tansy kept the pantry well stocked—when she saw it her face lit up.

‘Ingredients. Yay!’

So they made three versions of bun, all of which worked. They decided—to Martin’s delight—that Martin’s was best, Erin’s was second and Nathan’s third—but they all ran rings round Dom’s, no question.

He agreed, not even bothering to be offended. He and the boys
were filled to the rim with bun. They squeezed a little soup in for dinner. They checked and rechecked Marilyn. The boys chattered to Erin like an old friend. She had them entranced and he didn’t blame them.

He was close to entranced himself.

He should go out to Erin’s wrecked car and fetch her belongings. He’d found her a toothbrush and comb—as an emergency foster-carer he always had necessities on hand—but she needed more. A change of clothes would be good. But the house was full of the smell of cooking and the sound of laughter and it seemed such…well, such a home that he wanted to stay.

It was an illusion, he thought, but he may as well enjoy it while it lasted.

The boys seemed mesmerised as well. When it was finally time for bed they left Erin with reluctance, but they knew she’d still be there tomorrow.

Tomorrow was looking great. It was so different from what he’d expected.

He’d seen six patients during the course of the day—none needing him to go out but each needing his full attention. Erin had turned the day around. She was fantastic, he thought, returning to the kitchen after tucking the boys in. A laughing, cheerful sprite…

He swung open the kitchen door and she looked so sad he stopped in his tracks.

‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded involuntarily, and she caught herself and dredged up a smile.

‘Nothing. Sorry. Just thinking. This is my thinking face.’

‘It looks like your end-of-the-world face.’

‘That’s a bit dramatic.’

‘Okay,’ he conceded. ‘Maybe it’s a just-lost-your-fiancé face.’

‘He’s not my fiancé,’ she snapped. ‘He never was. He just assumed he was. He never told me, though. I’ve had boyfriends. He’s had girlfriends. But of course he’s always been around, and when I was offered this new job he decided I was getting too
career oriented. It was time I knew where I stood. How’s that for romantic?’

‘Not very?’ he said cautiously.

‘Too right, not very. Is it dumb to want violins? Nightingales? Fireworks exploding? Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen?’

‘I guess.’

‘You mean it hasn’t happened for you, either.’

‘I think it’s—’

‘You tell me it only exists in the pages of a romance novel I swear I’ll break down and sob,’ she said darkly. ‘I know this true love thing’s out there somewhere. What about all those heroines out there dying of broken hearts? Or fading away of consumption.’

‘Is that what you want to do?’ He smiled at her mournful expression. ‘If you do then maybe you need to cut down your intake of Easter buns.’

‘And now you mock my romantic heart. It took only that.’

She was smiling now. But…behind the smile…There’d been real sadness when he’d walked into the room. He’d seen it.

He didn’t need to get emotionally involved. This woman’s life was not his business. He did not need to enquire any further.

Erin must be tired. He should tuck her into bed. No, whoops, dangerous. He should order her to bed. But his gut feeling was telling him the minute she was alone that face would return.

So, despite misgivings, he stayed. Erin was sitting by the stove, resting her feet on a footstool. He moved to stand beside her, back to the fire, a position he loved.

He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

She was…beautiful.

Unaccountably, stupidly, he wanted to touch her. He wanted to run his fingers through her curls, tilt her face to his, kiss away her sadness…

Inappropriate, inappropriate, inappropriate.

He needed to get this on some sort of doctor/patient level, he decided. After all, that’s what she was. She’d come to his house looking for medical help and he’d provided it.

So to kiss her now…

No.

‘Your family and Charles’s family are…close?’ he ventured at last.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Just enquiring. There seems to be lots of undercurrents I’m not getting. I’m sniffing dysfunction. Dysfunctional families are my specialty. You want tea?’

‘Sure,’ she said, and watched him as he heated the teapot. ‘Haven’t you heard of teabags?’

‘They don’t work as well,’ he said. ‘For dysfunction.’

‘My family’s not dysfunctional.’

‘You know, I’m a part-time dad,’ he said. ‘These kids are on loan while their families sort themselves out, but I still manage to get pretty close. If one of them sent word that he’d crashed his car, I might be tempted to find out for myself what was going on. It seems to me that your parents depended on Charles to report in. As far as I know, they haven’t even phoned.’

‘I’m almost thirty.’

‘So when do you stop caring?’

‘They do care.’

‘Right.’

There was a long pause. He measured in scoops of tea with care.

She eyed the pot with caution.

‘They do,’ she repeated at last. ‘They care very much. It seems they’re delighted I’m marrying Charles.’

‘I thought you weren’t.’

‘I’m not. But according to Charles they think I am. Dom?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you a complete paragon?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Charles is very…controlled,’ she said. ‘He’d say drinking tea is really sensible right now.’

‘You don’t want tea?’

‘I ought to want tea. It’s very sensible of you to suggest tea.’

‘But you’d rather…’

‘Whisky,’ she said promptly. ‘Failing that, a glass of red. But, then…you probably disapprove.’

‘Work of the devil,’ he said, and loved the look on her face.

‘Sorry,’ she said meekly. ‘Of course.’

‘But if you could make do with some really excellent cognac…’

Her face changed again. She was totally transparent. He tried not to laugh but…she was making him laugh inside. It was an extraordinary sensation.

‘You have cognac?’ she demanded.

‘For medicinal purposes only. Three times a day before meals or three glasses before bedtime. Whichever suits the patient.’

‘Yes please,’ she breathed. ‘This patient needs medicine now.’

So they drank cognac. They also talked shop. Medicine was the easiest, safest thing to talk about.

They’d been to the same medical school, four years apart. How come he’d never noticed her? Mind, his head had been so far into books back then that he might not have noticed.

She was ambitious. She’d been one of the youngest graduates ever and she’d gone into emergency medicine.

‘I love it,’ she said. ‘Pure adrenaline.’

‘But you don’t get to know your patients.’

‘No. No emotional stuff that way.’

‘You don’t like emotional stuff?’

‘I’ve had enough emotion to last me a lifetime.’

‘You want to explain?’ he asked, and she shook her head and stared into the depths of her cognac.

She fell silent. He didn’t mind. He even liked it.

She was a restful woman. Warm and funny, but there were depths he could only guess at.

She’d used the comb he’d found her to good purpose. Her hair was lovely, tumbling around her shoulders in soft curls. More and more he wanted to reach out and touch…Reach out and kiss…

No. No and no and no.

‘I lost my brother and sister,’ she said bluntly, and her bald statement shook him out of his not so appropriate thoughts.

‘How?’

‘They were killed when I was four.’ He had the impression she was trying to figure things out and he could listen or not. ‘Sarah was seven and Connor was nine. Charles’s father was driving. Charles was in the front seat. Charles was nine as well—he and Connor were friends. A truck ran a red light. Sarah and Connor were in the back seat and were killed instantly.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, not knowing what else to say.

‘I was too little to figure it out,’ she said. ‘I just remember people crying. Crying for years, really. And then, every family function since, Charles and his parents have been there.’

Ouch. A psychologist could have a field day with this one.

‘So tonight…they’ll all be distressed,’ she whispered. ‘They’ll be sitting round not knowing what to think. But while you were putting the kids to bed I tried to ring, and Mum was so upset she wouldn’t talk to me. Now Charles will be explaining I’ve had a shock and I’ll come to my senses—he’ll see to it. And my parents will listen to him. They’ll leave me alone to figure things out. On about Easter Sunday Charles will appear again and be reasonable and have a very sensible plan as to what to do with Marilyn. What to do with me.’

Her voice wobbled.

He didn’t get into this sort of emotion. But…as if it had a life of its own, his hand moved to rest gently on her hair.

She put her hand up and covered his.

It was okay. He could do this. It felt…right.

She needed this. He knew it. What he didn’t understand so much was why he felt as if he needed it, too.

The urge for more…to take her in his arms, to kiss her, was still there, but it was supplanted. Comfort was okay. More than okay, actually. The warmth in this tangible link was so strong it left him feeling that something was being forged that was really important.

Something he wasn’t sure existed.

‘Dom,’ she said at last, softly.

‘Mmm?’

She pulled her hand away and maybe it was his imagination but he was sure there was reluctance. She had to move on.

They both did.

‘I reckon Marilyn and her pups would be more comfortable in here by the stove,’ she whispered. Then she tried again and she had her voice back. It made him wonder if the contact they’d had was disturbing her. She’d needed to get back to sensible. Practical. ‘If we popped them in the corner they’d be out of the way. They can’t stay in the hall all Easter. You want to cart them in?’

‘I guess.’

So she sat by the stove and superintended while he made up a dog-bed. Gently he lifted each tiny pup across to the new bed, letting Marilyn see exactly what he was doing. As the last puppy was taken away from her, Marilyn heaved a doleful sigh, hauled herself to her feet and lumbered across to her new bed.

This felt okay, too, Dom thought. He was surrounded by domesticity and for once it didn’t scare him.

He ought to go to bed. He’d been up since dawn and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be disturbed again during the night.

But he didn’t want to leave the kitchen. He didn’t want to leave Erin.

‘So tell me about you,’ she murmured.

And he thought, no, he should go.

‘Not a lot to tell.’

‘Yeah, there is. You finished med school four years before I did. Were your parents proud?’

‘Ruby stood in the front row at my graduation and cried like her heart was breaking.’

‘Ruby?’

‘My foster-mother.’

‘So your real mum and dad…’

‘Disappeared years ago,’ he said. ‘I haven’t heard from my mother since I was eight. My birth father was arrested for armed robbery six years ago. I read about it in the papers. But I only knew him by name.’

‘Which explains why you take in foster-kids?’

‘Maybe it does,’ he said repressively.

‘Did you always want to be a doctor?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

He shrugged. And then he thought, Why the hell not? Tell it like it is.

‘We moved towns a lot when I was a kid,’ he said. ‘My mother was…not exactly stable.’ He shrugged. ‘She believed in love at first sight—which meant we followed loser after loser. Finally there was a night…’ He hesitated, then decided there were still places he didn’t want to go. ‘Anyway, it was what the cops call a domestic. The police came, there were neighbours shouting, lots of stuff going on. And in the middle of it all, the doctor arrived. A nice, grey-haired old man who surveyed the mess, then came straight for me. I remember I was hiding under some hydrangeas in the corner of the garden. It was like he knew I had to be there. He came under the bushes, he told me I’d had enough, that he’d take care of my mum from now on, and then he put me in his car and took me to Ruby. I should have been taken in by Child Welfare. I should have been formally assessed. Instead, half an hour later I was by Ruby’s fire-stove drinking mugs of hot chocolate
while Ruby and the doctor talked about what colour socks he’d like her to knit him. And who was going to win the football that week.’

‘He sounds wonderful,’ Erin said in a voice that was suddenly none too steady.

‘They both were,’ he said. ‘Doc Roberts and Ruby. Extraordinary people. I can’t touch them for kindness. But I can take in the odd waif as payback.’

‘How long have you taken in waifs?’

‘Since I found Tansy,’ he said. ‘I was looking for a country practice. I wanted one where there was less work than there is here, but I came to the interview before I realised how remote it was. Tansy was on the panel that interviewed me. I mentioned I wanted space in my life to foster kids, and I wanted a big house. About two minutes later I had this place and a live-in housekeeper.’

‘So she’s bossy.’

‘She’s great.’ He hesitated, feeling…exposed. Really exposed. ‘But what about you?’ he demanded, and his voice came out rougher than he’d intended. ‘Why did you decide to be a doctor?’