She looked alarmed now. ‘I didn’t think you were intending to stay that long. And, anyway, who would look after Sophie?’
At least she had used the baby’s name for once. One step forward, two back?
‘I’ll bring the gear out. I got the delivery chaps to leave it all downstairs in the foyer. Some old lady gave me a very disapproving look, I have to say.’
‘That must have been Mrs Connell. From downstairs. Do you need some help?’
‘Yes. Here, you take Sophie.’
‘But I—’
Dylan didn’t allow time for an excuse to be expressed. He pressed the well-wrapped baby bundle against Jane’s chest and she was forced to put her arms around it, her eyes widening enough to make her look shocked at his assertiveness.
He was slightly shocked himself. Not by his insistence on her holding the baby but by the way his body was reacting to that inadvertent brush of his hands against Jane’s breasts. Dammit! He knew that tingle.
Moving quickly, Dylan embarked on the task of loading his purchases into the back of the vehicle. He wasn’t here to get attracted to Sophie’s genetic mother. No way! Not only was she completely not his type of woman, he was on a mission that was quite complicated enough already.
Sophie had started crying by the time Dylan was slotting the three-wheeled stroller on top of the boxes that contained the kit-set cot. She was howling as he put in a cane bassinette stuffed with baby linen and blankets. With the last load of a plastic bath, changing mat and supply of baby wipes, it was clear that Jane was nearly as upset as the baby. It was time to rescue her.
‘She hates me,’ Jane said flatly as Dylan took the bundle. She pointed the remote at the vehicle and locked the doors. ‘I need to get changed.’
She walked off into the apartment building without a backward glance.
Dylan looked down at the tiny red face. ‘You’re not helping,’ he said sadly. ‘Give her a chance, eh? It’s what she’s giving us.’
She was. She had agreed that her penthouse apartment was totally unsuitable for an infant. She had offered what seemed like an ideal alternative. A fully furnished holiday house in a small town beside a beach. A private place where they would have the opportunity to talk. He could stay there as long as he liked. As long as it took to sort out the best thing to do. Perfect. Or so it had seemed until he’d thought about it some more. This small settlement was certainly far enough away for Jane not to be distracted by domestic or professional concerns but maybe it was a bit too far away. Maybe he and Sophie were being neatly shunted aside.
Out of sight and out of mind?
He needed to work on that. Jane was going to stay in Akaroa with them for tonight, at least. Dylan hoped inspiration might strike by then.
It would need to!
Tucked into her car seat and sound asleep, Sophie could have been on another planet as far as Jane seemed concerned on their drive to her country residence a short time later. She seemed more interested in giving Dylan a history lesson.
‘We’re heading southeast,’ she informed him as they left the city behind. ‘This is Bank’s peninsula, which was actually sold to a captain of a French whaling ship back in the 1830s or so. If the French had got their act together a bit more quickly, New Zealand could have been theirs instead of under British sovereignty.’
‘Is that so?’ While it was interesting, Dylan wanted a rather more personal conversation. ‘What’s your connection?’
‘My grandmother was a descendent of one of the early settlers. The street her cottage is on is actually named after her family. Number three, Rue Brabant.’
‘Rue? As in French for street?’
‘Akaroa is New Zealand’s only French settlement. It’s got a very distinctive feel to it and they hang on to the heritage from the first settlers.’
‘And you inherited the cottage from your grandmother?’
‘No. It went to her daughter. My mother.’
This was alarming. Was Jane taking him and Sophie to stay with her mother? An older and potentially more fierce version of Jane?
She flicked him a glance. ‘Don’t worry. Mum’s not there. She only ever went to the cottage for the odd weekend and she died quite a few years ago now. Not long after she retired.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. And your father?’
‘Also dead.’
‘But…’ Dylan frowned. ‘Can I ask a personal question?’
‘You can ask. I don’t guarantee I’ll answer it.’
‘How old are you, Jane?’
‘Thirty-five. Why?’
‘Your parents must have died very young.’
‘Not tragically. Dad was in his early sixties. Mum got to seventy.’
‘But…’ Dylan was confused now. ‘You’re only thirty-five and it’s been how long since your mum died?’
‘I was what you might call a change-of-life baby,’ Jane said reluctantly. ‘Mum was forty-three when I came along.’
‘Oh.’ Dylan tucked the information away because it seemed important. After a glance over his shoulder to check that Sophie was happy and a look out the windows to admire the flat farmland around them, he decided it was worth trying for some more information. Knowledge was power, after all.
‘My mum died of pneumonia,’ he offered. ‘She’d always had lung problems. What happened to your folks?’
‘Dad killed himself by working too hard. Kind of ironic, because he was a cardiologist and he had a massive MI.’
‘And your mother?’
‘She was a neurologist. She retired at sixty-seven and I think she died of boredom. Her work had been her life and she never found anything interesting enough to replace the passion.’
‘So you’re an orphan,’ Dylan said sympathetically. ‘Just like wee Sophie.’
Oops. There was no mistaking the way Jane’s fingers tightened on the steering-wheel. Or the way her mouth compressed itself into a thin line that let him know he had said the wrong thing.
Dylan tried to make amends. ‘Your parents sound like impressive people.’
That was better. Jane nodded approvingly as they passed a sign naming a small settlement as Cooptown and she slowed the car.
‘They were,’ she said proudly. ‘They were both devoted to their work and highly respected.’
‘You were an only child?’
‘Yes.’
‘A surprise?’ The query was cautious but Jane didn’t seem offended.
‘That’s what change-of-life babies usually are, aren’t they? My parents were delighted once they got used to the idea, of course.’
‘But they had their important careers well established. I don’t suppose they found too much time for family stuff.’
‘My parents were wonderful people,’ Jane said stiffly. ‘They loved me and I loved them. Yes, they both had busy careers but they did their best for me.’
But it hadn’t been enough, had it? However determined Jane was to put a brave face on it, he could hear the wistful tone of a lonely young girl somewhere beneath those words. His next question was gentle.
‘You had a nanny?’
‘Yes. She was a lovely woman.’
‘And you went to boarding schools?’
‘Very good schools. I was happy.’
Now she sounded defensive. Dylan simply made a sound that indicated he’d heard what she’d said and then he fell silent as they began driving uphill. The silence ticked on and then Jane sighed.
‘All right. What’s the point you’re trying to make?’
She knew. But maybe it was time to get it out into the open. ‘I suspect your experience has made you believe that having a professional career and being a good mother are not compatible.’
Jane snorted. ‘Thanks, Sigmund. I could have worked that one out for myself, you know.’
‘It doesn’t have to be like that.’ Was Jane being so defensive because she felt in conflict? Did a part of her like the idea of being a mother? Even if it was a tiny part, it was worth encouraging.
‘With the kind of career I have, it does.’ Jane was negotiating tight bends, easing the heavy vehicle up the steep, narrow road with impressive ease. ‘You can’t be there to cheer on a race at a school sports day if you’re rostered on in an operating theatre. Or clap at prize-giving if you happen to be delivering a keynote speech at a conference in Milan. Or watch the candles being blown out on a birthday cake if you’re on call and your pager goes off. Or…’
Jane took a deep breath as she negotiated the next bend. Then she shook her head. ‘So many things. Not important on their own but they add up. It isn’t a good mix for anyone involved. I know. End of story.’
A sad story. Dylan could hear the pain of a lonely child. Hungry for her parents’ attention. Had that been why she had followed them into the same profession? Seeking approval and common ground?
Was the sense of deprivation deep enough for her to not wish it on someone else?
Like her own child?
It was Dylan’s turn to sigh. He hadn’t expected a barrier this solid. Maybe he’d done the wrong thing coming here at all, but he couldn’t have known. He still couldn’t know what was really going on in Jane’s head—or, more important—her heart. She was having to face things she had probably considered long buried. A non-issue. She had to be feeling at least some level of confusion.
On top of that, she had to be hurting for the loss of a close friend. She’d been crying before he’d turned up at her apartment last night. She might not want to share her feelings but that didn’t mean they weren’t overwhelming. So much so that it might be impossible for her to be thinking rationally about the future.
About Sophie.
She needed time and that was fine. Sophie’s future hung in the balance here and he needed time as well. He needed to get to know this woman a little better. He wasn’t about to try and persuade Jane to have a huge influence in the life of his niece if it wasn’t going to be the very best option available.
Dylan had stopped talking, both to gather his own thoughts and in the hope that the tense atmosphere in the car would diffuse, but as they reached the top of the huge hill they’d been climbing, he couldn’t stay silent any longer.
‘Holy heck!’ he exclaimed. ‘Would you look at that?’
Jane was smiling as she pulled off the road into the car park of a building labelled the Hilltop Tavern. She parked facing the view that had just taken Dylan’s breath away.
Far ahead, past the spectacular rolling green of hills and valleys, was the brilliant blue of a harbour, with more hills seeming to roll into it, leaving an irregular coastline and projections that whispered of hidden bays and private beaches.
Dylan had to get out of the car. To shield his eyes and simply stare for several long minutes. It was easy to ignore the sparse evidence of human habitation. This land looked, for the most part, untouched. Perfect.
‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ Jane spoke quietly from just behind his right shoulder. ‘I never get tired of this view. It’s worth driving up that horrible road.’
‘It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen,’ Dylan decreed. He turned so that he could look directly at Jane. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’
She loved this place. He could see that she was really pleased by his response to seeing it and, for the first time, Dylan felt the tiniest connection with this woman. Something they could agree on and share.
What a shame it had nothing to do with the baby still happily asleep in the back seat of the car behind them.
Still, Dylan felt happier as he climbed back into the vehicle. How could he not, as the drive into that magical landscape continued? Past remote houses and challenging-looking farmland. Past a cheese factory and along a delightful stretch of coastline with boat sheds and ramps and children playing. Into Akaroa village, which was picturesque enough not to be a disappointment after that fabulous view from the hilltop.
‘I love it,’ Dylan said, as they drove to the other side of the village. ‘The street signs, the lighthouse, that cute jetty house with its turret roof. The French flags. Everything!’
‘It’s different, isn’t it? A lot of artists and alternative lifestylers are drawn to live here.’ Jane turned up a tiny, steep street and drove very slowly. ‘You should feel right at home.’
‘Sorry? I’m a nurse, not an artist.’
‘I just meant…’ Jane was blushing again as she parked the car. Had he really thought this woman had icy self-control? ‘Well, you’re…different.’
‘Am I?’ Dylan wasn’t sure he liked that. Or was it a good thing? He wanted it to be a good thing. He needed it to be, for Sophie’s sake. ‘How?’
Jane bit her lip. ‘Honestly?’
‘Aye.’ If they couldn’t be honest with each other, they weren’t going to get anywhere.
‘When I first saw you—in ED yesterday—I thought you looked like…um…a gypsy. And that you might be happier holding a guitar instead of a baby.’
She looked up and Dylan was astonished to see shyness in her expression. It was unexpected. And appealing. And her eyes were an extraordinary colour. Not quite green but not quite hazel. Unique.
Intriguing.
He let the silence hang for just another second. Long enough to enjoy that expression and those eyes and to anticipate a new connection that might build on what they had already achieved so far today.
He smiled.
‘I love my guitar,’ he confessed. ‘Good guess.’
CHAPTER FIVE
HE WAS doing it again.
Smiling at her.
Jane had never seen a smile quite like Dylan’s. It made her feel as if she had somehow made him very happy and, curiously, it seemed to make her feel just as good.
Very, very good. Right down to her bones.
Weird, considering that his reference back to her ‘good guess’ confirmed they were complete opposites. She had a BMW convertible in her garage for when she had the rare moment free to enjoy it. He loved his guitar and probably sat for hours making music.
The old adage that opposites attracted filtered into Jane’s brain.
No! That was absurd.
He just had a lovely smile, that was all. One that had the ability to draw you into a moment of time that had nothing to do with anything else that might be happening in your life.
Like a stressful job and the grief of losing your best friend and the shock of being presented with a live baby and…
And she had to remember all these things and not get lost in a smile to the point of imagining herself to be attracted to this man. It was much easier once she dragged her gaze away from his face and moved so it couldn’t find its way back. She got out of the car and waited by the wooden gate in the hedge while Dylan unhooked the car seat containing Sophie and picked up her bag of supplies.
‘I must apologise for the mess here,’ she said briskly. ‘I had a gardener who used to look after the place but he had a mild stroke about three months ago and can’t work any longer. I haven’t found the time to do anything about employing anyone else.’
Dylan put out a hand to shield Sophie from the drooping fronds of the hawthorn hedge. Big hands, Jane noticed. With long fingers that she could easily imagine plucking the strings of a guitar. The protection of the infant he carried was clearly automatic with no thought being given to the scratches he might receive himself from the sharp thorns. It was nice to know he was good at looking after something helpless. A perfect guardian.
Aware that Dylan was watching her, Jane hastily averted her gaze again and put her shoulder against the gate. The hinges were rusty and the hedge was doing its best to swallow the opening.
‘Dinna fesh yourself,’ Dylan was saying as he followed her up the narrow cobbled path where rose branches reached out to try and attack their legs. ‘It’s…’
Jane turned to see that he’d stopped and was staring at the house. Sophie was whimpering but the sound didn’t seem to have penetrated Dylan’s consciousness yet. She turned back, trying to see
past the necessary tasks she had been mentally cataloguing, like pruning the roses and mowing the lawns and clearing out the guttering. Trying to see what Dylan was seeing that could make his expression an echo of what it had been on the hilltop when he’d caught sight of the landscape.
The cottage was well over a hundred years old. The dark grey corrugated-iron roof was steeply pitched, edged with ornately carved bargeboards. There were tall brick chimneys with fancy clay pots on the top and dormer windows, divided into small squares, in each of the three gables. A long, bull-nosed veranda roof ran the whole width of the lower storey and, currently, the wisteria vine that hung from its iron lace was profusely in bloom.
Long delicate blue flowers hung to almost touch the flowers of the lavender hedge running wild below. You could only catch a glimpse of the wicker furniture on the veranda and the French doors and windows of the house beyond.
It certainly looked invitingly shady, given the brilliance and surprising heat of the sunshine they were standing in. It was pretty, Jane conceded. Even in this disreputable state. She had been coming to this house for as long as she could remember and she had always loved it.
‘It’s gorgeous.’ Dylan bestowed another smile on her as he finally finished his sentence. ‘It’s the bonniest wee house I’ve ever seen.’
‘Come on in.’ Jane concentrated on locating the correct key on the ring. She didn’t want to try and analyse why Dylan’s response to this property made her feel like the connection she’d felt when he smiled at her had just increased tenfold.
He loved the house, that was all. Lots of people adored old houses and a man like Dylan was bound to be drawn to a dwelling that looked so free from the constraints of tidiness. It wasn’t that he understood why this patch of land and its buildings had been so special in Jane’s life. The place of time out in school holidays. Of home baking and cuddles and someone to whom she was more important than anything else.
‘It might be a bit musty inside,’ she warned as she unlocked the door. ‘I’ll turn the power and water on. We can get the coal range going later but I’ll go down to the bakery first. It’s way past time for some lunch. You must be starving.’
Her Baby Out of the Blue/A Doctor, A Nurse: A Christmas Baby Page 5