by Fiona Lowe
‘Noah?’
There was no trace of the previous anger in her voice and none of the sarcasm. All he could hear was concern. He raised his eyes to hers, his gaze stalling on the lushness of her lips. Pink and moist, they were slightly parted. Kissable. Oh, so very kissable. What they would taste like? Icy cool, like her usual demeanour, or sizzling hot, like she’d been a moment ago when she’d taken him to task? Or sweet and decadently rich? Perhaps sharply tart with a kick of fire?
The tip of her tongue suddenly darted out, flicking the peak of her top lip before falling back. Heat slammed into him, rushing lust through him and down into every cell as if he were an inexperienced teen. Hell, he had more control than this. He sucked in a breath and gave thanks he was sitting down behind a desk, his lap hidden from view.
He shifted his gaze to the safety of her nose, which, although it suited her face, wasn’t cute or sexy. This brought his traitorous body back under control. He didn’t want to be attracted to Lilia Cartwright in any shape or form. He just wanted to get this time in Turraburra over and done with and get the hell out of town. Get back to the security of the Melbourne Victoria and to the job he loved above all else.
Her previously flinty gaze was now soft and caring. ‘Noah, is everything okay?’
Everything’s so far from okay it’s not funny. Could he tell her the real reason the Victoria had sent a surgeon to Turraburra? Tell her that if he didn’t conquer this communication problem he wouldn’t qualify? That ten years of hard work had failed to give him what he so badly wanted?
For the first time since he’d met her he saw genuine interest and empathy in her face and a part of him desperately wanted to reach out and confide in her. God knew, if he’d unwittingly upset a patient and been clueless about the impact of his words, he surely needed help.
She’ll understand.
You don’t know that. She could just as easily use it against me.
He’d fought long and hard to get this far in the competitive field of surgery without depending on anyone and he didn’t intend to start now. That said, he’d noticed how relaxed she was with her patients compared to how he always felt with them. With Bec Sinclair, she’d explained everything he’d been doing, chatting easily to her. She connected with people in a way he’d never been able to—in a way he needed to learn.
He had no intention of asking her for help or exposing any weakness, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t observe and learn from her. Don’t give anything away. Leaning back, he casually laced his fingers behind his head. ‘Do you have any other fat pregnant women coming in today?’
Wariness crawled across her high cheekbones. ‘There is one more.’
‘Do you concede that her weight is a risk to her pregnancy?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Good.’ He sat forward fast, the chair clunking loudly. ‘This time you run the consultation, which means you’re the one who has to tell her that her weight is a problem.’
She blinked at him in surprise and then her intelligent eyes narrowed, scanning his face like an explosives expert looking for undetonated bombs. ‘And?’
‘And then I’ll critique your performance like you just critiqued mine. After all, the Victoria’s a teaching hospital so it seems only fair.’
He couldn’t help but grin at her stunned expression.
CHAPTER THREE
LILY TURNED THE music up and sang loudly as she drove through the rolling hills and back towards the coast and Turraburra. As well as singing, she concentrated on the view. Anything to try and still her mind and stop it from darting to places she didn’t want it to go.
She savoured the vista of black and white cows dotted against the emerald-green paddocks—the vibrant colour courtesy of spring rains. Come January, the grass would be scorched brown and the only green would be the feathery tops of the beautiful white-barked gum-trees.
She’d been out at the Hawkers’ dairy farm, doing a follow-up postnatal visit. Jess and the baby were both doing well and Richard had baked scones, insisting she stay for morning tea. She’d found it hard to believe that the burly farmer was capable of knocking out a batch of scones, because the few men who’d passed through her life hadn’t been cooks. When she’d confessed her surprise to Richard, he’d just laughed and said, ‘If I depended on Jess to cook, we’d both have starved years ago.’
‘I have other talents,’ Jess, the town’s lawyer, said without rancour.
‘That you do,’ Richard had replied with such a look of love and devotion in his eyes that it had made Lily’s throat tighten.
She’d grown up hearing the stories from her grandfather of her parents’ love for each other but she had no memory of it. Somehow it had always seemed like a story just out of reach—like a fairy-tale and not at all real. Sure, she had their wedding photo framed on her dresser but plenty of people got married and it ended in recriminations and pain. She was no stranger to that scenario and she often wondered if her parents had lived longer lives, they would still be together.
Although her grandfather loved her dearly, she’d never known the sort of love that Jess and Richard shared. She’d hoped for it when she’d met Trent and had allowed herself to be seduced by the idea of it. She’d learned that when a fairy-tale met reality, the fallout was bitter and life-changing. As a result, and for her own protection, and in a way for the protection of her mythical child, she wasn’t prepared to risk another relationship. The only times she questioned her decision was when she saw true love in action, like today.
Her loud, off-key singing wasn’t banishing her unsettling thoughts like it usually did. Ever since Noah Jackson had burst into Turraburra—all stormy-eyed and difficult—troubling thoughts had become part of her again. She couldn’t work him out. She wanted to say he was rude, arrogant, self-righteous and exasperating, and dismiss him out of her head. He was definitely all of those things but then there were moments when he looked so adrift—like yesterday when he’d appeared genuinely stunned and upset that his words had distressed Bec Sinclair. She couldn’t work him out.
You don’t have to work him out. You don’t have to work any man out. Remember, it’s safer not to even try.
Except that momentary look of bewilderment on his face had broken through his I’m a surgeon, bow down before me facade, and it had got to her. It had humanised him and she wished it hadn’t. Arrogant Noah was far more easily dismissed as a temporary thorn in her side than thoughtful Noah. The Noah who’d sat back and listened intently and watched without a hint of disparagement as she’d talked with Mandy Carmichael about her weight was an intriguing conundrum.
She braked at the four-way intersection and proceeded to turn right, passing the Welcome to Turraburra sign. She smiled at the ‘+1’ someone had painted next to the population figure. Given the number of pregnant women in town at the moment, she expected to see a lot more graffiti over the coming months. Checking the clock on the dash, she decided that she had just enough time to check in on her grandfather before starting afternoon clinic.
Her phone beeped as it always did when she drove back into town after being in a mobile phone reception dead zone. This time, instead of one or two messages, it vibrated wildly as six messages came in one after another. She immediately pulled over.
11:00 Unknown patient in labour. Go to hospital.
Karen.
11:15 Visitor to town in established labour in Emergency. Your assistance appreciated.
N. Jackson.
‘What have you done with the Noah Jackson I know and despair of?’ she said out loud. The formal style of Noah’s text was unexpected and it made Karen’s seem almost brusque in comparison. The juxtaposition made her smile.
11:50 Contractions now two minutes apart. Last baby I delivered was six years ago. Request immediate assistance.
NJ.
12:10 Where the bloody hell are you?!
N.
‘And he’s back.’ Although, to give Noah his due, she’d be totally stressed out if
she was being asked to do something she hadn’t done in a very long time. She threw the car into gear, checked over her shoulder and pulled off the gravel. Three minutes later she was running into Emergency to the familiar groans of a woman in transition.
For the first time since arriving in Turraburra, Noah was genuinely happy to see starchy and standoffish Lilia Cartwright, Midwife. ‘You don’t text, you don’t call,’ he tried to joke against a taut throat. Trying to stop himself from yelling, I’m freaking out here and where the hell have you been?
‘Sorry,’ she said breezily. ‘I was out of range.’
‘Seriously?’ Her statement stunned him. ‘You don’t have mobile reception when you leave town? That’s not safe for your patients. What if a woman delivers when you’re not here?’
‘Welcome to the country, Noah. We’d love to have the communications coverage that you get in the city but the infrastructure isn’t here.’
‘How can people live like this?’ he muttered, adding yet another reason to his long list of why country life sucked.
‘I always let Karen know where I am and a message gets to me eventually.’
‘Oh, and that’s so very reassuring.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘I’m here now so you can stop panicking.’
Indignation rolled through him. ‘I. Do. Not. Panic.’
‘I’m sure you don’t when you’re in your beloved operating theatre, but this isn’t your area of expertise and it’s normal to be nervous when you’re out of your comfort zone.’
Her expression was devoid of any judgement. In fact, all he could read on her face was understanding and that confused him. Made him suspicious. If surgery had taught him anything it was that life was a competition. Any sign of weakness would and could be used to further someone else’s career. He’d expected her to take this as another opportunity to show him up. Highlight his failings, as she’d done so succinctly yesterday. He’d never expected her to be empathetic.
As she pulled on a disposable plastic apron she flicked her braid to one side, exposing her long, creamy neck. He was suddenly engulfed by the scent of apples, cherries and mangoes, which took him straight back to the memories of long-past summers growing up and fruit salad and ice cream.
Regret that midwives no longer wore gowns slugged him hard. Back in the day he would have needed to tie her gown and his fingers would have brushed against that warm, smooth skin. His heart kicked up at the thought, pumping heat through him.
What are you doing? She’s so not your type and you don’t even like her.
That was true on all fronts. He limited his dating to women who were fun, flirty and only interested in a good time. A good time that ended the moment they planned beyond two weeks in advance. Somehow he got the feeling that Lilia wasn’t that type of woman.
With the apron tied, she lifted her head and caught him staring at her. Her fingers immediately brushed her cheeks. ‘What? Do I have jam or cream on my mouth from morning tea?’
‘No.’ Embarrassment made the word sound curt and sharp and she tensed. He instantly regretted his tone and sighed. ‘Sorry. Can I please tell you about your patient?’
‘Yes.’ She sounded as relieved as him. ‘Fill me in.’
Happy to be back in familiar territory, he commenced a detailed patient history. ‘Jade Riccardo, primigravida, thirty-seven weeks pregnant. She’s been visiting relatives in town and arrived here an hour ago in established labour. Foetal heart rate’s strong and, going on my rusty palpation skills, the baby’s in an anterior position. Her husband’s with her but they’re both understandably anxious because they’re booked in to have the baby in Melbourne.’
A long, loud groan came from the other side of the door. ‘Sounds like she’s going to have it in Turraburra and very soon.’ Lilia grinned up at him, her dimples diving deep into her cheeks and her eyes as bright as a summer’s day. She was full of enthusiastic anticipation while he was filled with dread. She tugged on his arm. ‘Come on, then. Let’s go deliver a baby.’
The heat of her hand warmed him and he missed it when she pulled it away. He followed her into the room and introduced her. ‘Jade, Paul, this is Lilia Cartwright, Turraburra’s midwife.’
Jade, who was fully in the transition zone, didn’t respond. She was on all fours, rocking back and forth and sucking on nitrous oxide like it was oxygen.
Paul was rubbing Jade’s back and he threw a grateful look to both of them. ‘Are you sure everything’s okay? She’s doing a lot of grunting.’
Lilia smiled. ‘That’s great. It means she’s working with her body and getting ready to push the baby out.’ She rested her hand on Jade’s shoulder. ‘Hi, Jade. I know this is all moving faster than you expected and it’s not happening where you expected, but lots of babies have been born in Turraburra, haven’t they, Noah?’
‘Yes.’
She rolled her eyes.
Beads of sweat pooled on Noah’s brow. Her resigned look spoke volumes, telling him he was failing at something. He looked at the husband, whose face was tight with worry. ‘Lots of babies,’ he echoed Lilia, practising how to be reassuring and hoping he could pull it off. ‘It might not be Melbourne but you’re in good hands.’ Lilia’s hands.
Paul visibly relaxed. ‘That’s good to know.’
Lilia placed one hand on Jade’s abdomen and her other on her buttocks. ‘With the next contraction, Jade, I want you to push down here.’
Jade groaned.
‘Your tummy’s tightening. I can feel one coming now.’
Jade sucked on the nitrous oxide and then pushed, making a low guttural sound.
Lilia pulled on gloves. ‘You’re doing great, Jade. I can see some black hair.’
Paul stroked Jade’s hair, his face excited. ‘Did you hear that, honey?’
Contraction over, Jade slumped down onto the pillows. ‘I can’t do this.’
‘You’re already doing it, Jade,’ Lilia said calmly. ‘Every contraction takes you closer to holding your baby in your arms.’
Noah, feeling as useless as a bike without wheels, did what he knew best—busied himself with the surgical instruments. He snapped on gloves, unwrapped the sterilised delivery pack, set out the bowl, the forceps and scissors, and added the cord clamps, all the while listening to Lilia’s soothing voice giving instructions and praising Jade.
They developed a rhythm, with Paul encouraging Jade, Lilia focusing on the baby’s descent and Noah checking the baby’s heartbeat after each contraction. Each time the rushing sound of horses’ hooves sounded, Paul would grin at him and he found himself smiling back. With each contraction, the baby’s head moved down a little further until twenty minutes later it sat bulging on the perineum, ready to be born.
‘I think you’re going to have your baby with the next contraction,’ Lilia said as her fingers controlled the baby’s head. ‘Pant, Jade, pant.’
Jade tried to pant and then groaned. ‘Can’t.’ With a loud grunt, she pushed. A gush of fluid heralded the baby’s head, which appeared a moment later, its face scrunched and surprised.
‘The baby’s head is born. Well done,’ Lilia said.
‘Our baby’s nearly here, honey,’ Paul’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘I can see the head.
‘I want it to stop,’ Jade sobbed. ‘It’s too hard.’
Noah looked at the sweaty and exhausted woman who’d endured an incredibly fast and intense labour. She was so very close to finishing and he recalled how once he’d almost stopped running in a marathon because his body had felt like it had been melting in pain. A volunteer had called out to him, ‘You’ve done the hard yards, mate, keep going, the prize is in sight.’ It was exactly what he’d needed to hear and it had carried him home.
‘The hard work’s over, Jade,’ he said quietly. ‘You can do this. One more push.’ He caught Lilia’s combined look of surprise and approval streak across her face and he had a ridiculous urge to high-five someone.
Jade’s hand shot out and gripped Noah’s shou
lder, her wild eyes fixed on his. ‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’
‘Noah’s right, Jade,’ Lilia confirmed. ‘With the next contraction, I’ll deliver the baby’s shoulders and the rest of him or her will follow.’
‘Okay. I can feel a contraction noooooow.’ Jade pushed.
A dusky baby slithered into Lilia’s arms and something deep down inside Noah moved. It had been years since he’d been present at a birth and he’d forgotten how amazing it was to witness the arrival of new life into the world.
Lilia clamped the umbilical cord before asking the stunned father, ‘Do you want to cut the cord, Paul?’
‘Yes.’ With shaking hands, Paul cut where Lilia indicated and then said, with wonder in his voice, ‘It’s a little girl, Jade.’
Noah rubbed the baby with a towel and took note of her breathing and colour and muscle tone so he could give an Apgar score for the first minute of life. The baby hadn’t cried but her dark eyes were bright and gazing around, taking in this new world. A lump formed in his throat and he immediately tried to get rid of it because emotion opened a guy up to being weak and vulnerable.
‘I’m going to pass the baby between your legs, Jade,’ Lilia said. ‘Are you ready?’
‘My arms are shaking and I’m getting another contraction.’
Paul took the baby, cradling her in his arms while Lilia delivered the placenta. As she examined it, Noah helped Jade roll over. ‘In an hour we can transfer you to the midwifery unit. You’ll be a lot more comfortable there.’
Paul reverently passed his daughter to his wife. ‘Meet Jasmine.’
Silent tears rolled down Jade’s cheeks as she unwrapped the baby and counted her fingers and toes. ‘Hey, sweetie, I’m your mummy.’
Noah stepped back, moving to the corner of the room and standing next to Lilia, who was breathing deeply. He glanced at her. Her beautiful blue eyes shone with unshed tears but her face was wreathed in a smile. She was luminous with joy and it radiated from her like white light.