Every Boy's Dream Dad

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Now he did touch her. A gentle trace down her cheek with his forefinger. ‘Don’t be. I understand.’

Really? ‘Thanks.’

‘My wife died nearly three years ago.’ Pain bleached his suntanned cheeks, cracked his voice, shook the finger on her cheek. ‘I miss her every minute of every day.’

Then he was gone. Striding down the corridor as though the devil was after him, sending him on his way—away from her. Leaving her to contemplate the coincidence that they’d both lost a spouse. He really did understand her mixed-up emotions.

Ben slammed the truck door shut, snapped the ignition key on, and clanged the shift into forward drive.

Then hesitated. Rachel reminded him of things he’d banned from his life for ever. Essential things like caring for someone special, like sharing day-to-day occurrences such as buying the milk, cleaning the kitchen bench after having a meal together.

His head banged back against the headrest. He had told her about Catrina. He never talked about his late wife. To anyone. Not to his friends. Not to his family. No one. Yet he’d blurted it out to the doc whom he’d known less than a week. The shock in her eyes had woken him up from that desire-induced state he’d slipped into. Desire had crept through him without thought, without any hindrance on his part, igniting a deep need he hadn’t known he had. A need to love again, to be loved again. How had this happened? All he’d done was ask her if she wanted a coffee.

All he’d done?

When was the last time he’d asked a woman out for a coffee?

You invited Catrina to join you at that café down on the wharf in Wellington. You’d been watching her feeding the pigeons and fallen in love with her there andthen. You walked right up to her, introduced yourself and offered to buy her a cappuccino. Yes, she’d said so fast you’d had to check you’d heard her correctly. She’d grinned. And the rest was history.

Except it had been a short history. Catrina’s life had been cut off when she’d overshot the motorway off-ramp, made an abrupt turn at speed and lost control of the car. Life was cruel. While he hadn’t got much more than a scratch, Catrina’s ribcage had been crushed by the steering wheel. Flail chest. Every time she’d breathed those broken ribs had torn at her lungs.

All his medical training had been for nothing that night. The best he’d been able to do had been to hold Catrina’s hand and talk to her as they waited for the paramedics—who were never going to be able to save her. He hadn’t been able to save her life, or even dull her pain. He’d been useless. Devastated as he’d watched the life leave his beautiful, vibrant Catrina. Furious that he’d felt relief when she could no longer feel the excruciating pain.

Ben gasped a lungful of humid air. He eased his foot onto the accelerator and drove carefully down the narrow lane out to the main route into town. His hands were shaking. Sweat beaded on his brow. He hadn’t consciously thought about that night in months. He didn’t go there any more than necessary. It hurt too much. That night had been the end of one life and the start of another less involved one that had brought him here, away from family and friends. His wife was squeezed into a tight, locked cell in his heart, only to be taken out when he got so desperate for her laughter, her wisdom, her chatter that he couldn’t ignore it. And every time he did that he sank into a black hole that took a binge session at the pub to blot out the pain.

So why had he lifted the lid on all that now? Why with Rachel Simmonds? The doc. Something about her had touched him in a place he’d long believed dried up and dead. It wasn’t sex. Oh, he wanted that as well. No doubt about it. But that wasn’t what was going on here. So what was? He didn’t have an answer.

You don’t want an answer. You’re too afraid of where it will take you.

The truck surged forward as Ben’s foot pressed the accelerator. His shoulders bit into the seat behind him. Whoa, slow down, man.

Slow down on everything. Especially slow down on being friendly with your new neighbour.

Take every day one moment at a time. Stay as far away from her as you possibly can. Give her time to settle in. Get to know her slowly. Why? Because then you’ll have got past this wish to make love to her, to look out for her, to show her how things work in island life, and then you’ll be able to have a normal, friendly, neighbourly relationship with her.

Ben grunted. One day at a time? Sure. He could do that. If he was blind and deaf. If his peanut brain returned to normal.

Rachel flopped down on the towel she’d spread over the sand. Splashing around in the sea was the perfect way to finish a day after work. Not that work had been strenuous, far from it. Everyone she met, staff and patients, were very friendly. She might find her enjoyment from the job again if this kept up. But from her life? That was expecting too much.

The sound of clapping came from further down the beach where a wedding was taking place. The bride looked gorgeous in her cream-and-gold dress as her new husband kissed her. Her attendants wore gold, strapless gowns, while the men were dressed in open-necked cream shirts, tan trousers and bare feet. Rachel grinned. Back home no one would believe her when she told them. Bare feet at a wedding? Practical in the sand and a fun element in the photos. The clear sky and blue waters of the lagoon made a perfect setting for the ceremony. No wonder so many Kiwis came over here to get married.

‘Mummy, look at me jumping the waves,’ Riley called from the water’s edge where tiny wavelets lapped.

‘Watch out for sharp rocks,’ she called back. A cut on his foot could take some time to heal in this moist heat.

‘He loves the beach.’ Ben hunkered down on his haunches beside her.

She swallowed. With the effect Ben had on her she should’ve sensed him coming. It had taken time and a patient in labour for her to get past his startling revelation that morning. Then there was the way her body had reacted to him. That had taken longer to get over, and by the tingling in her fingertips and in her tummy now she hadn’t been very successful.

But she did understand some of Ben’s reticence when it came to opening up and talking. Which only made what he’d told her even more surprising. Why had he told her? Was it because she’d been so open about her feelings surrounding Jamie’s death? Well, there were a few things she hadn’t mentioned and had no intention of telling him any time in the near future. Things best kept to herself.

‘Can he swim?’ Ben’s gaze was firmly fixed on Riley.

‘No. Last weekend was the first time he’d been to a beach.’

‘I’ll teach him.’

‘What?’ Ben offering to show Riley how to swim would mean several visits to the beach, would mean he’d be spending more time with them.