Angus edged nearer. Neither Maggie or Max said a word.
Nearer.
He put a hand on the car-and then cautiously, cautiously put a finger out to touch.
Rose’s little hand was just there. He touched her fingers and they curved and held, and Angus stared down at her in incredulity.
No one spoke but Max felt a knot of emotion in his chest that had lots to do with the expression on Maggie’s face-but also something to do with Angus himself. With this farm. With the night of Betty and the calves in the haystack.
Family.
And the ideas that had been drifting since Rose’s birth became more than ideas. An ambition?
No, a certainty. If he could pull it off.
He must.
And then there was a whoop from the house and Sophie and Paula were tearing along the driveway to meet them. Angus backed away, but only as far as his tractor.
‘You’ve met her first, Angus, not fair,’ Sophie yelled, and then Margaret and John were outside, too, and Maggie and Rose were enveloped.
Max could go now.
Only Maggie clung to him, and he had no intention of leaving until he must. In truth, all he wanted was to bundle Maggie and Rose back into his car and take them back to Sydney. To leave them here seemed wrong-but there were plans to make. If he could do it in three months…He must. He needed to get back to Sydney and get things moving right now.
But still he stayed and had dinner with them, knowing he’d been a fool for not accepting dinner the night of the funeral. One dinner missed was one too many. Then Maggie walked him out to the car and it was entirely logical that he take her into his arms and kiss her and kiss her and kiss her.
‘I love you,’ he whispered into her hair, for it seemed impossible not to say it.
‘I love you right back,’ she whispered. ‘Max, three months is crazy.’
‘It is,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I need to sort stuff out. Can you bear to be patient?’
‘What do you need to sort out?’
‘A happy ever after,’ he said. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘How can you doubt it?’
‘Then be patient,’ he said, and kissed her again-but then as Rose’s indignant wail sounded from inside the house he put her away from him.
‘I need to go and so do you. Go feed your daughter.’
‘You’ll come back?’
‘Soon.’
‘That’s not soon enough,’ she said, distressed. ‘Max…’
‘Hush,’ he told her. ‘Hush, my love. Let’s take this one day at a time. Let’s figure out where we go from here.’
She went back into the house to feed her baby, feeling bleak. Empty. Lost. That he was returning to Sydney without her…
He was giving her room to make her decisions. He was being honourable.
She didn’t want honourable. She wanted Max.
And why had she made those promises to Betty?
The promises were closing in on her now. Back in Sydney she’d thought she could break them. It had seemed possible. But here, with echoes of Betty all around her, it seemed less so. For her to walk away from Angus, and the farm, and the community…
Oh, but to walk away from Max…
Inside the house Margaret met her, holding Rose out for her to take. When she saw Maggie’s face she hugged her.
‘Oh, my dear, he’ll be back.’
‘Will he?’
‘Of course he will,’ Margaret said stoutly.
But for how long? Maggie thought, but she didn’t say it.
Max seemed to have faith in their future. Maybe she should, too.
He stayed away for almost a week and that was long enough. Then he made a mercy dash back, to give Angus his headlights, and bonnet badges he’d found for his 1949 Newman WD2. That was a good moment. Angus almost smiled. Maggie did.
Then he found someone to take over part of his role in Sydney so he could work reasonable hours. His car soon seemed to know the route back to the farm all by itself, and the more he visited, the more sure he was of what he felt. His thoughts were finding a centre, a purpose, but three months might not be long enough to finalise his plan.
Would she agree? Once the emotion of the birth had faded would she still feel the same? He daren’t ask, not yet, but he rang, twice a day, sometimes more, and the pleasure in her voice said she might, she must.
‘Your grin’s getting fixed,’ Anton told him. ‘It’s stretching your face.’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
‘Don’t do it,’ Anton said morosely. ‘Three kids and it’s the end of life as you know it.’
‘Would you want your old life?’
‘Hell, I can’t remember my old life,’ Anton said. ‘It’s in the bottom of my wardrobe with my blue suede shoes. Figuratively speaking, that is. I’m not quite that old. I just feel it.’
‘But for all the whinging…’
‘Yeah, I wouldn’t give it back.’ Anton said, smiling at his friend. ‘And if you take that final step, neither will you.’
She loved him, she loved him, she loved him. She wanted him here. That he wasn’t next to her, seeing Rose’s first smile, waking in the night next to her, loving her, felt wrong.
The promise she’d made to Betty seemed more and more impossible. To stay here for ever when the man she loved was in Sydney…How could she?
But Max wasn’t asking her to go to Sydney. His phone calls and visits were all about now, all about what Rose was doing, how the farm was going, what was happening with the ancient Sift TD4 diesel Max had found and had shipped to the farm.
‘So who’s the tractor fanatic?’ Maggie teased.
‘Just taking a polite interest,’ he said innocently. And she laughed to think of him, her swish Sydney surgeon, now with a secret passion for tractors…Max. Her man.
He wouldn’t keep coming unless he wanted her. And she knew that she’d go with him. Despite her promise.
But the promise still lay heavy on her heart. The problem was that she’d become part of this community. Betty was gone but her ghost lingered through the house, a gentle, approving presence Maggie felt as a blessing all around her.
Betty had manoeuvred this into a happy ending, for the farm, for the community and for Angus, and in a sense Maggie had her happy ending as well. She had her precious daughter who was already gurgling her delight at her world. She was surrounded by people who loved her.
She and Rose had their own part of the house. The apartment Betty had built was large, sun-filled and lovely, but Sophie and Paula were constantly in and out, fascinated by Rose, bringing the house to life with their chatter and laughter. And John and Margaret were wonderful. They were looking to buy their own home but there was no rush. No rush at all.
This situation could extend indefinitely, Maggie thought. If not for Max.
Three months. He was gently patient, but she knew now that patience disguised steady purpose. He loved her, he wanted her and he was making her fall more and more deeply in love with him at every visit.
A couple of months after Rose’s birth Maggie started doing two clinics a week-morning sessions, with no house calls. It took some of the load from John, and it felt good. She was back to serving the little community of Yandilagong that had been such an important part of William’s past. The reason she was here.
The farm-the second reason she was here-was great as well. The tractors were like benign spirits, with Angus as their leader. His calves were half-grown now, and friendly. Maggie watched Angus and the calves, and Sophie and Paula with Bonnie, and she started to think maybe a pup of her own would be fun.
But if she was to move to Sydney…Max had a hospital apartment. A pup? No.
How could it matter? How could she put a pup above Max?
He loved her. There was no doubt about that, and every time she saw him she knew deeper in her heart that this was the man she wanted to share her life with.
So what was the problem?
She could se
ll the farm to John and Margaret. She knew that. They’d take care of Angus and she could visit constantly.
She’d done the best she could for Betty, for Angus, for the farm, for William’s beloved community. It was only…only…
No. She loved Max and every time he phoned, every time he visited, she knew that her love was returned and more.
She was his woman. His gaze lingered on her, his kisses told her he wanted her, that he was waiting only from some misguided sense of chivalry. The wait didn’t mean he didn’t want her-the warmth of his voice on the end of the phone confirmed it. He’d said three months and he was sticking to it, but after that…She belonged to him as he belonged to her.
So she knew how this must end. At the end of three months she knew he’d come to claim his own.
And she knew what her answer must be.
And three months to the day he came. He’d rung the night before. ‘Tomorrow,’ he’d said, in a tone she couldn’t mistake. He’d hardly said anything about three months for…well, for three months, but here it was and of course he’d remembered.
‘I’ll be there at lunchtime,’ he said. ‘Wear something pretty.’
So here she was, at lunchtime, wandering the house feeling like…
Like she’d made her decision and it was the right one, even if it did involve a sense of loss.
Rose was asleep in her little pink crib in her bedroom overlooking paddocks that swept down to the sea. Maybe they could find a house by the sea in Sydney. Maybe her longing to be a country girl had been irrational.
She’d be with Max.
If he still wanted her.
He wanted her. For months the sizzle had been building. It was in his voice, in his laughter, even in his silence. She couldn’t mistake his desire, for she felt exactly the same about him. He made her toes curl.
Speaking of toes…she looked down at her feet. She was wearing sky-blue, open-toed sandals and she’d painted her toenails crimson. She was wearing a blue and white gingham dress with a bow at the back and Sophie had tied her hair up in a blue ribbon.
He’d ordered pretty. She felt a bit like Sandy from Grease, before the leather.
He was late.
‘What time are we expecting him?’ Margaret called from the kitchen. ‘My roast’ll spoil.’ She wandered out to join Maggie on the veranda and then turned toward the road. ‘Is this him now?’
Maggie gazed out, sizzle building like petrol on wildfire-and then her sizzle faded. This wasn’t Max. It was an SUV, bright crimson, with two surfboards on the roof rack.
‘Wrong place?’ Margaret said.
‘So what’s behind it?’ John asked, joining them. The SUV was slowing and turning into the driveway, and a truck was following. A huge truck, big enough to hold the contents of a small house.
‘Maybe Angus has ordered another tractor,’ John said, looking out to where Angus and Bonnie were sitting on the Sift TD4 diesel that Max had found. The Sift had been built in 1950 in France. Maggie knew that now. She was starting to feel almost as affectionate toward the tractors as Angus.
She’d be able to come home to visit.
Back, she reminded herself sharply. Not home. Home would be in Sydney with Max.
Max or not, the truck and the SUV were certainly coming in. The SUV drove slowly along between the tractors, followed by the truck. Who was in them?
The sun was in her eyes, but as the SUV passed Angus, the window slid downward. ‘Hey, Angus. Hey, Bonnie.’
It was definitely Max. But what was with the truck? Had Max brought Angus another tractor? A going-away present?
She hadn’t told Angus she was going away. She hadn’t told John or Margaret, but maybe they’d guessed.
She didn’t know herself yet, she reminded herself sharply, but that was stupid.
There was no choice.
Max.
But why was he driving an SUV? With surfboards?
Both truck and SUV were pulling up now, under the gums by the house. A couple of burly guys climbed out of the truck and stood, waiting. Max climbed out of the SUV. He was wearing jeans and boots and an open-necked checked shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His hair looked sort of unruly.
He looked great, she thought. He looked…free.
He reached back into the SUV and lifted out a black and white ball of fluff. Set it gently on its feet.
A puppy. A Border collie, like Bonnie. Ten or twelve weeks old? Cute as a button.
The puppy looked around in astonishment, and Bonnie was off Angus’s tractor in a flash, bounding down to check out the new arrival.
The puppy rolled onto its back while Bonnie sniffed from all angles, paying special attention to the rear.
No one moved. It was like a very special test was being conducted. But then Bonnie’s tail wagged, the puppy righted itself, put a paw up and gently swiped at Bonnie’s nose.
Bonnie bumped him gently with her nose in return, wagged her tail, then turned and bounded back toward Angus. Puppy in tow.
‘Hey, he’s for Maggie,’ Max called, and Angus even grinned.
‘Share,’ he said.
Not if I’m going to Sydney, Maggie thought wildly, but still she couldn’t say anything.
But he wasn’t walking toward her. Max was unroping the surfboards from the roof of his car. He lifted them down with loving care, and laid them on the ground.
Behind him the men had tugged open the van doors. They were carrying out…a sea kayak?
Aren’t you going to help?’ Max demanded of the group on the veranda. ‘I’m paying these guys by the hour.’ And John gave Maggie a push that nearly sent her off the veranda without benefit of steps.
‘Go help your man,’ he said.
‘He’s not-’
‘Maggie,’ Max called, sounding exasperated. ‘I’ve brought you a surf board all the way from Sydney, and you don’t even want to come see it? Oh, and the front berth in this kayak is for you.’
‘But-’
‘And there’s more stuff,’ he called. ‘It might be a bit of a squash but it seemed too much bother to rent storage in Sydney. We can sort out what we don’t want later.’
‘But…’ said Maggie.
‘I think you’d better go see, dear,’ Margaret said, smiling and smiling. ‘I might go in and turn the roast down. John, girls, inside, all of you.’
Don’t leave me. She didn’t say it. She thought it. She was feeling like the veranda was swaying under her.
‘Come and look,’ Max called, peremptorily this time, and finally she did, walking cautiously down from the veranda and out through the garden. The puppy came bounding to greet her, and that gave her a moment to get her thoughts together. Or as much as she could, kneeling to hug a squirming mass of black and white pup.
How had he known she wanted a puppy?
‘We’ll never keep him happy in Sydney,’ she said, and then heard what she’d said and blushed from the toes up. She was making all sorts of assumptions-or she’d made assumptions and now they were being stood on their heads.
In a good way?
‘I always wanted a dog,’ Max said, and she rose and watched while the pup wheeled back to Bonnie. ‘Her name’s Bounce.’
‘So he’s not a gift,’ she said cautiously.
‘He’s a gift.’
‘But you said you want a dog.’
‘He’s a gift to all of us.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Maggie, this is a moving van,’ he said, motioning behind him as if she might not have noticed the van, the two burly removalists, the sea kayak, the vast, leather-topped desk they were now carting out. ‘It’s full of my stuff. Last time I was here I checked out a couple of empty sheds out the back. I was hoping I might be able to unload it here.’
‘Why…why would you want to do that?’
‘Ah.’ He crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat, but stopped six feet away, as if reminding himself not to rush. ‘I was hoping you’d guess,’ he said. He motione
d back to the surfboards. ‘I’m also hoping you might teach me to surf.’
‘You know how to surf,’ she said, struggling to breathe.
‘I can body-surf. I can’t stand up. I didn’t have William to teach me.’
‘So you brought all your furniture-so I could teach you to surf?’
‘Not all of it, but I did bring my grandfather’s desk. Isn’t it great? It’s big enough for both of us. We can teach Rose to read at this desk. Then there’s my great-grandmother’s piano. I have this really strong feeling that Rose will be a piano player. It can’t go in the shed, by the way. It’ll need to have a bit of the sitting room. Do you think it can have a bit of your sitting room?’
‘I’m living in a one-bedroom apartment at the back of the house,’ she said, with an attempt to get things clear.
‘Yes, well, there’s moves afoot to change that,’ he said, smiling so much her heart felt like it was turning somersaults. ‘I hope I haven’t pre-empted things.’
‘Pre-empted…’
‘You see, John thinks this place could be a really wonderful medical centre.’
‘Here?’
‘Yandilagong,’ he said patiently. ‘The town itself is small, but the surrounding farming population is enormous. The farmers all end up going to the city for their major medical needs, but if there was a really good medical centre they wouldn’t need to. John and I have been talking to the politicians and there’s nothing but enthusiasm.’
‘John and you?’
‘John and I.’
Her head was spinning. ‘So what’s this got to do with pianos?’
‘You’re not giving me time,’ he complained, but still he smiled, his lovely, slow, lazy smile, and her heart was giving up somersaulting and going into freefall. ‘Do you know how beautiful you are?’
‘No, I…’
‘Someone ought to tell you,’ he said. ‘Only that someone needs time. Like a lifetime.’
‘Max…’
‘You’re right, I’m getting ahead of myself,’ he said. They were still standing about six feet apart. Stupidly formal. His eyes weren’t leaving her face.
‘John thinks a big medical centre would work here,’ he said. ‘He’s a family doctor. So are you. Margaret’s a dentist. That’s two and a half medicos already, if we count you not going back to work full time.’
City Surgeon, Small Town Miracle Page 16