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He smiled crookedly and the way he curved his firm mouth made him more a real person and less Misty’s brother. ‘Sometimes I’m accused of uncanny intuition if we’re searching for someone, but not with the precision and clarity of Misty.’
He pulled the soft bonnet over Dawn’s hair as if he’d beanied a baby many times and then rolled her little body in the blanket as he peeled her away from Montana’s skin so that the cold air wouldn’t distress her. Dawn didn’t even whimper.
Montana was quietly impressed with his confidence with her newborn daughter—even Douglas, an obstetrician, hadn’t been that adept at handling babies. The thought was diverted by a sneaky eddy of cold air that had whispered against her own skin like a blast from the refrigerator, and she pulled the blanket in tight and hugged it with a shudder.
Andy wrapped Dawn in another warm shawl and tucked her against his chest as he flattened the blanket back firmly around Montana with his other hand. He must have seen her shiver.
Dawn whimpered and he whispered softly to her. His cheek rested against her tiny head with his skin on hers to comfort her while he carried her to the warmth of the car.
Montana frowned at how at ease they looked together and decided she’d had enough huddling to keep warm while she waited for the mist to lift.
Her heated feet felt good and she slipped the bottle up to tuck into her now loose trousers and keep her stomach warm as she pulled her shirt together where she’d opened it to keep her daughter snug against her skin.
The sheer bliss of hot water to wash her face and hands made her smile and after she’d communed with nature she crossed to Andy’s car and her daughter.
Andy had the cup holders out on the dashboard and each held a steaming cup of tea that caused puffs of condensation on the windshield above each mug.
Dawn dozed quite happily tucked into Andy’s arm and Montana stilled him with a raised hand as he went to lean across to open the passenger door.
She slid in. ‘Don’t move. She’s settled.’ He looked remarkably at ease for a big man with a newborn in his arms.
She inhaled the aroma. ‘The tea smells wonderful,’ she said, and gathered the cup in both hands to divert her mind away from him. The heated comfort infused into her hands like the flavour had into the water.
How brilliant that Andy had instinctively known not to fuss. Even Douglas would have flapped and scolded at the thought of Dawn’s arrival here on the mountain, and Montana sipped her tea slowly and relaxed.
They sat silently for many minutes and Montana may even have dozed.
When she opened her eyes again he was looking at her. Not staring, just an appraisal to see if she was fine. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt so comfortable in a stranger’s company.
‘Were you frightened?’ His words were soft and acknowledged something powerful and amazing had happened on the mountain that morning and she took pleasure in his lack of censure. She smiled at the bundle that was her daughter and shook her head.
Suddenly it was important he understand that she wasn’t reckless with her daughter’s life. ‘It was the most serene dawn. I couldn’t drive any more, not safely anyway, and when I stopped it all happened as it should.’
She paused thoughtfully and then went on. ‘I won’t say I was lucky it all went well—because I have always believed a woman is designed to give birth without complications. I was just not unlucky, as some women are.’
Andy pondered her statement. That seemed a bit simplistic for him but it wasn’t his job to dispute her views and instead he flattened his chin against his chest and squinted at the baby snuggled like a possum into him. ‘What do you think Dawn weighs?’
Montana looked proudly across at her daughter and smiled again. ‘Maybe six pounds. Say two and a half thousand grams. She’s three weeks early but she’s vigorous.’
‘She’s perfect.’ Like her mother. The glow that infused him with that thought surprised him but he refused to examine the reasons. The occasion was special enough for odd feelings.
‘I know,’ she said. They smiled at each other in mutual admiration for Montana’s baby. This time Montana was the first to look away and he wondered if she too had become aware of that ease between them, which was unexpected.
He reached over the back of the seat and lifted a small lunch holder. He needed to be practical, not fanciful. ‘Would you like some sandwiches? Misty made some with egg and some with ham. We could put them together and pretend it’s a Sunday breakfast.’
‘Actually, I’m starving.’ Her face lit up and he enjoyed her eagerness for food. No doubt his pleasure came from a primitive male-provider thing but he could fix her hunger when he’d let her down by not being there half an hour earlier.
She unwrapped the sandwich and bit into it with small white teeth and with obvious relish. Labour must be hungry work, he thought, and the glow inside him flared a little more.
‘Is there anything you don’t have?’ she said just before the next bite, and the words were strangely prophetic.
Someone like you, perhaps? Whoa, there boy. He was getting way out of his depth here and he needed to pull back urgently. He looked out at the mist below them in the valley.
His voice came out a little more brusquely than he’d intended but he couldn’t help that. ‘I don’t have a trailer to bring your truck down with us—but I’ll come back and get it later for you.’
She saw the mist had begun to dissipate lower down the mountain.
Soon this interlude would be over, she’d be tucked up in a ward bed with Misty and Mia fussing over her, and everything would be as it should be, except Douglas wouldn’t be there.
All the things she hadn’t said and now couldn’t share with Douglas were irretrievable and she needed to accept that. But she dreaded each day in her normal environment, which had become so entrenched in loss and memories.
Her husband wouldn’t be in the maternity ward where she’d first seen him. Wouldn’t be in any of the familiar places where they’d both spent the last years of his life.
How did one cope with this feeling of desolation? Or of the guilt-ridden feeling that Douglas had let her down somehow by dying? What of the fact that a stranger had been the first man to see Dawn and not Douglas?
Her eyes stung and a tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I don’t want to go to the hospital. Actually, I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t even want to go back to my house in town, which is ridiculous as I don’t have the energy to organise a clean break. I have no idea how I am ever going to go back to work there.’
She bit her lip and then shook her head. ‘This is not like me. I’m sorry. I have no option. Ignore what I just said.’
The understanding in his green eyes nearly triggered the tears again. ‘Anyone would think you’d had a big morning,’ he said, and the compassion in his voice told her he understood. He really did understand.
Andy slid his arm across the seat and around her shoulder and it was as if he encased her in empathy. Despite the fact that she didn’t know him, it felt good to be hugged. Incredibly good.
‘It must be hard without your husband,’ he said. ‘I felt the same when my wife died.’
He saw she knew his story. Misty would have told her. He hoped she hadn’t told her how he’d almost gone off the rails.
‘It’s harder than anything in the world,’ she said, ‘and sometimes I’m almost angry with him for leaving.’ Montana lifted her face to his. Her eyes shimmered with loss and he remembered that too.
‘I remember that feeling,’ he said.
He squeezed the fine-boned shoulder under his hand and she responded to his understanding and told him.
‘The first of May. It was an aneurysm. There was no warning. Douglas went to bed smiling and never woke up. He was thirty-five and didn’t even know he would be a father.’
Andy didn’t rush in with condolences because when his wife had died he’d hated that. The silence lengthened as they both reflected on their losses.
Finally he said, ‘It was a tragedy. Though he has given you a beautiful daughter and he will live on through her.’
She nodded. ‘I know. But I don’t ever want to hurt like that again.’
Andy sighed. Amen to that. Time was a great healer—he knew that from bitter experience—but the early years were painful and something he’d promised himself he’d never do again. She had to do it with a daily reminder in a child.
It was good he had a direction in life with the hospital now. She needed something like that.
Andy squeezed Montana’s shoulders once more and then let his arm drop. ‘I’ll get your things and put them in my car.’
‘I want to go home. Not to the hospital.’ The pain was stark in her voice.
He’d suspected that was coming. ‘Fine. I’m sure your own personal midwives will arrive as soon as they hear you are home.’
He smiled and Montana found she could smile back. He was right. Of course she didn’t have to go to the hospital. Mia and Misty would make sure she was fine.
CHAPTER TWO
ANDY spent the week of his holidays doing three things.
First, he accumulated extra operating hours as a locum surgeon for the occasional disaster that cropped up at the lake to ensure his skills remained current. You never knew when a casualty would arrive without time for transfer to the base hospital.
Second, he lost no opportunity to promote the idea of transfer to Lyrebird Lake for any health professional who would listen and might be remotely interested in relocating.
The Lake needed staff if it was to move into the new era the mine would bring, and this was a great opportunity to scout for potential colleagues.
Andy had sworn he would do his best to help find staff. If he didn’t, the hospital would be downgraded even further and the funding diverted to the base hospital eighty kilometres away.
That would happen over his dead body.
And the third thing he did was try not to think about Montana Browne.
His was a busman’s holiday that allowed him to catch up with his only sister once a year and not intended for relaxation or dalliance.
Since Montana’s baby had arrived early he’d spent a lot of time in and out of Misty’s friend’s house after work because Misty had taken on the cooking and shopping role for Montana in some pre-arranged, pre-birth deal the girls had going.
The other friend, Mia, had been assigned washing and garden work so Andy had offered to mow the lawns before he left.
He didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to watch Montana, a pastime he suspected he could become captivated by.
Something wasn’t right with Montana today.
It was a typical three-women-and-extra-brother afternoon at Montana’s house and he found it all strangely poignant that it was the last he would be present at.
Misty stroked Dawn’s downy cheek as she whispered to the tiny baby in her arms. ‘You are beautiful. Yes you are.’
Andy heard his sister’s crooning but his attention was on Montana as she rested back in the lounge with the cup of jasmine tea he’d made for her and fielded the barrage of questions Mia seemed obsessed with.
‘You sure you didn’t mean to have Dawn up there in the mountains all the time? You must have known you were going into labour? Didn’t you have a premonition?’
‘No premonition. I leave that to Misty.’ Montana’s quiet voice drifted across to him and he saw her glance at him but she didn’t smile.
Why did he need her to smile? ‘And to Andy,’ she finished, and he savoured the way she said his name.
He should go. Get out of this hens’ party and think about packing to head home. He still had a heap of shopping to do before he flew back tomorrow morning and if he went back to the Lake without the special ingredients Louisa, their housekeeper, had requested, he was a dead man.
He just couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Montana today—though that was nothing new. The day he’d met her replayed like a favourite movie in his brain.
He could still see her alone in an isolated clearing on the side of a mountain surrounded by mist—a woman as calm and tranquil as a Tibetan monk—after giving birth alone.
She’d declined hospital assessment even though he admitted she had two willing experts in his sister and Mia.
Here in her own home, even with her new baby, he’d never seen her succumb to any sort of anxiety, until now.
He kept remembering how serene she’d been when he’d first arrived to bring her back. That serenity was missing, and he didn’t think it was just the fact that Mia was hounding her again, but maybe it was.
‘Mia, leave her alone.’ Although he said it quietly, his voice cut across the room and the three women turned towards him.
Dawn began to cry and Misty carried her across to her mother as she glared at her brother. Andy smiled.
All three women could indicate displeasure with their eyes but his sister won hands down. Their mother had been the same but Misty would have been too young to remember that.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle everyone. Forget it.’ His sister would flay him for upsetting the baby but he was more worried about upsetting Montana.
Maybe his sister could help. ‘Can I see you for a minute, Misty, please?’
Misty shrugged and Montana raised one eyebrow mockingly as if to say he’d picked the wrong household to assert his authority, but he could see she was fine with him at least.
Misty approached with that militant look in her eye and he turned away with her so the other two couldn’t see their faces.
‘Sorry.’ Diversion might be a useful deflection. ‘Just wanted to ask you if you think it’s a good thing Montana stays here when it obviously makes her so sad.’
As a spur-of-the-moment diversion it had come with a lot of thought.
Misty frowned and tilted her head as if to peer inside his brain. He hated it when she did that because a lot of the time she could guess what he was thinking, and he didn’t even know what he was thinking himself.
‘What choice does she have?’ She spoke slowly as she watched him and he tried his own attempt at peering. She probably thought he was interested in Montana. Well, he was—but not like that!
He’d been there when Montana had said she didn’t want to come back to this house, this town, anywhere near the hospital.
‘Montana could come back to Lyrebird Lake with me and work in the hospital when she’s ready. She said she didn’t want to go back to Westside. We’re still looking for a midwife and an evening supervisor. Maybe she could fill those positions until she decides what she wants to do.’
Misty was still peering. ‘You’d have to talk to her about that yourself. And how would you get her there? She hates small planes.’
He didn’t like the scepticism in Misty’s voice but she didn’t seem as negative the more she thought about it.
She shook her head but again not as convincingly. ‘I can’t imagine Montana wanting to uproot herself from Douglas’s house and head to the back of beyond with a new baby.’
It wasn’t that dumb an idea. He frowned as he watched his sister consider the idea.
Too bad if she didn’t agree. It was Montana he needed to convince. ‘People in South East Queensland live there with babies. There’s no strangeness in that,’ he said.
Misty screwed her face up in disbelief that he could be so obtuse. ‘There is the problem of leaving everyone you know at a time you need them most.’
He’d be there for her and so would the others. ‘She’d know me. There’s a town full of people who would help.’
‘Strangers!’ Misty’s scorn came out a little forced and he began to hope she’d seen some advantage for Montana in his suggestion.
He lowered his voice. ‘Maybe that’s what she needs right now.’
Montana drifted across the room towards them and he watched her approach. Misty looked pointedly at her brother. ‘Ask her.’
