The Midwife's Secret Child

by Fiona McArthur

  Still, the technicalities of purchasing something in a foreign country had taken his mind off his nervousness about meeting his daughter today. Perhaps if Chloe knew that her father had actually bought a house in her own town then she would feel more confident he was planning to be a part of her life. Faith would see this too. He hoped that was what she’d see.

  But this morning the importance of this meeting with his new daughter had him edgy and unsettled. An unaccustomed apprehension that had not been helped even by rising at dawn and jogging down along the beach to freshen his mind. The cool white Australian sand under his bare feet had reminded him not at all of the hard pebbles of Amalfi beaches, his family holiday destination, and he felt the outsider even more despite his appreciation of the beauty surrounding him.

  He’d jogged the sweeping inlet of Lighthouse Bay, the coarse sand curved like a new moon, and passed the rushing of the tide through the fish-filled creek back into the sea.

  So few people passed him, strange for a man used to the crowds of Florence! So different to his homeland, but everything was different. His future was different because the occupants of this house he’d stopped outside now held his new world in their hands.

  Now the moment had arrived his nerves were taut again and the day felt harshly warm against his skin already.

  Or was he hot from nerves?

  What if Faith had had a change of heart overnight and decided to exclude him for some reason he could not fight?

  What if his daughter cried when she saw him?

  Would the father she had never met be a disappointment?

  ‘Calm yourself, Raimondo,’ he admonished out loud. His pocket held a small, traditionally dressed Italian doll, a whim he’d scooped up at the airport and had the clerk wrap in tissue paper for protection. The vivid red peasant apron and hat had caught his eye because the figurine had been exclaimed over by a passing young girl of around the same age as Chloe. Such a purchase might give the child he’d come to see a smile.

  For that was what he wanted the most.

  A smile from a little girl who could be such a shining light in his suddenly empty life—if she’d let him in.

  If her mother let him. If he was invited into their world.

  The door opened and Faith stood like a Renaissance vision of dark wavy hair and warm tanned skin, framed in the glow of sun that shone across from the windows overlooking the bay. He blinked and, incredibly, forgot for a moment his reason for being here. This woman, how she grabbed his chest and squeezed always.

  ‘You look beautiful.’ The words were soft and heartfelt and she stilled while her cheeks pinked.

  ‘Thank you,’ said politely like a schoolgirl, which reminded him abruptly about another girl. He had a daughter. Madonna mia. So much to take in.

  While he still struggled she said, ‘Thank you so much for yesterday.’ Then she smiled. ‘Both times.’

  His mind flashed back to the old man and the new infant and the drama that followed the birth. ‘You are very welcome.’

  ‘Sorry about your shoes.’ They smiled at each other.

  ‘Nothing a shower and clean couldn’t fix,’ he demurred.

  ‘Come in. I’ve told Chloe I have a friend from Italy coming this morning.’

  Her words sank in and reality slapped him as his fogged brain cleared. The irrational disappointment of not being introduced as Chloe’s father redirected his mind from the mother but he schooled his disappointment behind his professional mask.

  Of course she would think this was better for the child, less pressure.

  Later, he reassured himself, later they could change his title when all went well.

  They would. Yes. A definite, not an ‘if’.

  But his heart sank as he was reminded that his position was precarious still and it wasn’t this woman’s fault he was the outsider.

  His eyes roamed the room as he entered but he couldn’t see Chloe.

  A tall woman in her forties with Faith’s dark hair in a blunt bob stood to one side, a calm expression in her green eyes as she watched him enter. He glimpsed a quickly suppressed smile and his nerves settled a little. No hostility here either, though he wasn’t sure he deserved such generosity from the woman he assumed was Faith’s aunt.

  Faith gestured with her hand. ‘Izzy? This is Raimondo. Raimondo, my aunt Isabel.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Raimondo.’ She stepped forward and took his hand in both of hers. When she squeezed his fingers he felt the friendliness and lack of reserve her niece had projected from the first moment he’d met her.

  An amazing family—and one he had let down so badly.

  ‘And you. Thank you for your kindness, Isabel.’ Instead of shaking her hand, he leaned forward and gently kissed both soft cheeks.

  Then Faith moved from where she’d been blocking his view of Chloe, and finally he could see the child in the room.

  His daughter.

  There she was.

  He could never mistake her for any but his own, though she had Faith’s eyes.

  ‘Mia cara bambina...’

  The words were low and heartfelt. Except for the green eyes of her mother, she was his own dear mamma, a beauty as a young girl, judging from the photo he had in his home.

  My darling child. Words failed him and inside his chest it felt as though someone squeezed his heart in warm hands. His Chloe was taller than he’d expected and more curious than he had hoped for as her little face tilted sideways and she examined him with interest.

  He looked back at his daughter. She held out her hand as if she were a five-year-old queen. ‘Buongiorno,’ she said with an Australian accent and he laughed.

  ‘Buongiorno, piccolo.’ He glanced at Faith and for an instant he saw what she had hidden behind her apparent serenity. The clenched hands of trepidation that he would hurt her child, the chewed lip of hope that he would be a good father for Chloe, and the bowed head of having to share her baby with another parent after all these years.

  In a second he saw that and vowed he would protect the mother as well as the child from hurt.

  Then Faith smiled, shaking her head at her daughter despite the worry in her eyes. He needed to remember this was so hard for her.

  Faith nodded towards her daughter. ‘Our one Italian word she practised for you.’

  ‘Spoken perfectly,’ he said gravely to Chloe with sincere hope he hadn’t embarrassed her by laughing. ‘You took me by surprise and I am very impressed. Thank you for learning the greeting.’ His heart felt as if it were bursting. She was glorious and intelligent and had humour. And she looked like her beautiful mother. And somehow his. How had he been so blessed?

  This was all due to his Faith.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said primly and looked at her mother then back at him. ‘Mummy says you’re staying for breakfast and then we’re going to the beach. We’ve made coffee in the coffee machine for you. I helped put the froth on top of the cup.’

  ‘This is wonderful. Thank you.’ Again his eyes were drawn to Faith, who seemed so remarkably calm, while his heart was pounding and his mouth was dry with excitement. He had a daughter.

  He wondered at Faith’s serenity then noted the repetitive reach for her necklace when she thought he wasn’t looking. Perhaps not so calm.

  He owed her so much for this meeting.

  Inside he was wanting to shout with unexpected pride and joy and already the idea of leaving in less than a week caused pain that he would have to address and make plans for. Plans that meant his return. But that was for later. Today he would spend time with the daughter he had just found and try to mend bridges with the woman he had so badly disappointed.

  Faith’s aunt stepped forward. ‘Would you like a pastry for breakfast?’ She pointed to the dish of steaming croissants curled on the dish. ‘There’s butter and jam to go with it
. We’re having cereal and you can join us as well if you’d prefer.’ She glanced around at the girls. ‘Then we’ll have a croissant to finish with too.’

  ‘Grazie.’

  ‘Before she came to live with us, Izzy travelled a fair bit,’ Faith said. ‘She says this is the only time of the day to drink cappuccino in Italy without being teased. Is that true?’

  Raimondo smiled again. ‘True. Milk is for morning caffè, and too heavy for the afternoon. And your croissants are perfect, Izzy. Thank you.’

  They all stood there for an uncomfortable few seconds until Faith motioned them all to the table.

  Again, she had taken control, Raimondo noted. This assertive woman was not how he remembered her, but then years had passed. She intrigued him even more, but then he too had aged. Matured.

  He wondered if she noted that. Wondered if she thought of him like that at all. But this was not to be his concern. His concern was the young girl hopping from foot to foot as she tried to understand what was going on. This was about how he could become a part of Chloe’s life to her benefit.

  ‘Sit down, everyone. We’ll eat then we’ll go down to the beach for the morning.’ Faith looked at her aunt. ‘Have you decided if you’re coming to the beach, Izzy?’

  ‘I’ll go up and see Myra. She’s upset by her husband’s fall yesterday.’

  Faith turned to Raimondo. ‘You would have seen Dr Southwell yesterday, as he came into the hospital limping?’

  Raimondo nodded.

  ‘He fell on the path on the way down to our emergency yesterday. He’s okay but Myra is upset and worried. It’s his second fall. She wants him to retire. They live in one of the crofts up higher.’

  ‘Ah. I’m sorry to hear of his accident. I have seen those crofts. The view must be as good as from here.’

  They all glanced towards the windows overlooking the road and the sea. All except his daughter, whose eyes he could feel on him.

  ‘Even better. The ocean seems to go on for ever out of the windows.’ He listened to Faith’s answer though a part of him remained focused on his daughter. He turned and smiled at the child.

  Chloe watched him as the conversation continued and finally she said diffidently, ‘Excuse me. Would you like to try your coffee?’ Obediently he lifted his cup. Her gaze followed the mug, watching him for his expression, her tiny pink mouth compressed in concentration.

  He sipped and, though weak, the flavour tasted very pleasant. ‘Perfetto,’ he said.

  Her brows creased as she thought about that. ‘Perfect?’

  Pride expanded in him with an unfamiliar exuberance. ‘See. You are a natural.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A NATURAL? A natural what? A natural linguist?

  Her daughter wasn’t Italian.

  Her daughter was a little Aussie through and through, Faith reassured herself as she remembered the stillness on his face and the blossoming wonder when he first saw Chloe.

  And before that the moment when she’d said she’d introduce him as her friend not Chloe’s dad. He’d looked gutted and for a moment she wished she could change that and erase his pain. Tell Chloe this man was her father and let Raimondo bask in the moment.

  No. It was far too early to trust him not to illuminate their lives and then plunge them back into darkness.

  Her brain whirled with each new direction the day was taking. Was it only yesterday Raimondo had reappeared? Her life lay scattered in unexpected directions like the sand down at the beach, covered after a storm with new treasures and new sadness. But they would sort it out. She would sort it out.

  She guessed at some stage Chloe would travel to see the land her father came from. Whether or not Faith went along as well would depend on how old her daughter was when this hypothetical trip happened.

  Stop. Faith drew a deep breath and sipped her coffee too fast and had to furtively wipe away the moustache that coated her lip. Cappuccino and croissants for breakfast. Good grief. These logistical issues were all Raimondo’s problems, not hers.

  She had her own many things to think about and the nebulous future was not as important as today would be.

  Raimondo turned his head to answer a question from Izzy. Faith watched her daughter as Chloe gazed at the big Italian, her eyes wide and her attention settled squarely on this stranger at their table. True, it was an unusual sight to see a man in their feminine household. And true, Raimondo was difficult to tear your eyes away from.

  Faith had thought that the first time she’d seen him at Sydney Airport—the young excited midwife returning to her little rural hospital after an exciting weekend birthing conference and then tangling gazes with the big handsome Italian man. The overhead announcement of flight delays drawing them together in mutual acceptance of the fickleness of fate.

  Then, later, when he’d insisted on buying her dinner when their flights were rescheduled again to an even later flight. The instant, compelling attraction that had leapt between them growing bigger and brighter like a flame the more time they’d spent together. A flame that had taken over all good sense on both sides so that when the flights had been put back again until the next day they’d ended up in her hotel room provided by the airline instead of each to their own room later that night.

  The next morning, with stars in their eyes, instead of going their separate ways, he’d followed her home to see this place she loved so much and they’d spent every minute together until the fateful phone call that had torn them apart.

  That moment when the magical, marvellous moments had ended abruptly.

  With an almost brutal finality.

  Raimondo turned back and caught her haunted expression. Yes, I’m shell-shocked, she thought, and wished she could say it out loud. Just like I was years ago, and I don’t know why I was destined to meet you like this twice in my lifetime. Not fair, really.

  But she would have to deal with the moment and trust that he was trying to right a wrong and not cause more trouble.

  What did he expect of her? Of Chloe? And what was the best way to keep her and Chloe safe from falling under his spell again and being hurt? That was what she needed to know. The order of her world seemed to have been snatched from beneath her feet yesterday, but hopefully it would return to how it had been.

  Almost six years since she’d been swept along on a wild ride that culminated with the birth of this pretty, dark-haired child who brightened her life with such joy. What would it mean to share her with Raimondo—for that was what she could see coming? Maybe it would be for the best as Chloe did miss having a dad she could at least picture in her mind.

  What was not for the best was to risk her own heart falling for the same attraction that had skittled her life last time.

  Mentally she checked her defences and they were in place. She would see how the day panned out and make sure she too stayed safe.

  * * *

  An hour later the three of them walked down the hill to the beach.

  Chloe was dressed head to foot in a delightful blue-striped rash shirt, frilled tights and matching soft peaked sunhat. The only parts of her that could be burnt were her face, hands and feet and Faith had sunscreened them. They spent so much time at the beach the covering swimwear was easier than catching Chloe for the trauma of sunscreen, which she hated.

  For herself she wore a long sleeve cotton shirt and took it off to swim only. It was disquietingly odd to be going on a ‘family’ outing with Raimondo and her daughter, even if Chloe didn’t know that was what it was.

  The path swung in narrowly beside the road and Faith chose to follow behind the other two as it gave her time to think, and she could catch snatches of conversation as they floated back. Though, walking behind him, it did draw her eyes to the taut definition of his muscular arm as he swung the basket and the shift of thick muscles on his shoulders through his thin white shirt.

  She’d
loaded Raimondo with the two folding chairs and the not-feather-light food basket and he’d very happily accepted them. His arms will have grown by the time he gets there, she thought with an amused acknowledgement—it was easy to picnic when he carried most of the stuff. Faith carried the umbrella, towels and a blanket and Chloe swung her bucket and spade.

  Chloe was saying, ‘The beach has a low and a high tide and you have to be careful when you walk on the rocks when the tide’s coming in.’

  Her daughter definitely wasn’t fazed, talking to this big Italian her mother said was a friend.

  ‘Thank you for the warning. I will be careful,’ Raimondo assured her.

  A small arm pointed to the opposite cliff. ‘That lighthouse is so the ships know that the land is there. Especially in a storm. Aunty Trina’s house has big windows and in the storm the wind howls.’

  A sage nod from Raimondo. ‘That must be very exciting in a storm.’

  ‘I don’t like storms,’ Chloe said severely, and Faith had to smile as Raimondo backtracked adroitly.

  ‘Neither do I.’

  Chloe looked at him under her brows as if assessing his truthfulness and Faith suppressed a laugh.

  As if reassured, Chloe went on. ‘Mummy works at the hospital on the hill and I’ll be going to big school next year, which is just down the road from the hospital.’ Her daughter could talk.

  Faith could also be amused by how mystified Raimondo looked by Chloe’s running commentary because he kept turning back to Faith and smiling in pleased bemusement and she suspected he hadn’t had much to do with children.

  Well, Faith had had a lot to do with children. Especially this one. Twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week for almost five years and still Chloe could stump her.

  He had no chance of nailing it on one brief week-long visit.

  Chloe had always been included in the conversations between Faith and Izzy and, while a very polite little girl, she was happy to share her views on the small world she inhabited.