Healed by the Midwife's Kiss

by Fiona McArthur

  Or a cook. Or a cleaner. Or a dad.

  He was doing okay.

  He threw a last look out over the beach towards the grey sea and turned for home. ‘That’s our walk done for this morning, chicken. Let’s go in and have breakfast. Then you can have a sleep and Daddy will grout those tiles in the shower so we can stop having bird baths in the sink.’

  Piper loved the shower. Finn did too. When he held her soft, squirming satin baby skin against his chest, the water making her belly laugh as she ducked her head in and out of the stream always made him smile. Sometimes even made him laugh.

  So he’d spent extra time on the shower. Adding tiles with animals, starfish, moon shapes and flowers, things they could talk about and keep it a happy place for Piper. And he’d made a square-tiled base with a plug. Soon she could have a little bath. One she could splash in even though it was only the size of the shower.

  Doing things for Piper kept him sane. He didn’t need the psychologist his sister said he did, or the medication his brother-in-law recommended. Just until he’d climbed out of the hole he’d dug himself to hide in, he would stay here. In Lighthouse Bay. Where nobody pointed or pitied him and every corner didn’t hold a memory that scraped like fingernails on the chalkboard of his heavy heart.

  Except that around the next corner his heart froze for a millisecond to see the morning midwife crouched on the path in front of him.

  He quickened his pace. ‘Are you okay?’

  She turned to look up at him, cradling something brightly coloured against her chest, and with the shift of her shoulders he saw the bird cupped in her hands. ‘She flew into that window and knocked herself out.’

  The lorikeet, blue-headed with a red and yellow chest, lay limp with lime-green wings folded back in her hands. A most flaccid bird.

  Still, the red beak and chest shuddered gently so it wasn’t dead. ‘How do you know it’s a girl?’ He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. But he’d actually thought it was her that had been hurt and relief had made him stupid.

  She must have thought he was stupid too. ‘I didn’t actually lift her legs and look. Not really of major importance, is it?’

  Just a little bit of impatience and, surprisingly, it was good to be at the receiving end of a bit of healthy sarcasm. So much better than unending sympathy.

  He held up his hands in surrender and Piper’s voice floated over both of them from his back. ‘Dad, Dad, Dad!’

  The girl sucked in her breath and he could see her swan-like neck was tinged with pink. ‘Sorry. Night duty ill temper.’

  ‘My bad. All mine. Stupid thing to say. Can you stand up? It’s tricky to crouch down with Piper on my back. Let’s have a look at her.’

  The morning midwife rose fluidly, calves of steel obviously; even he was impressed with her grace—must be all those uphill walks she did. ‘She’s not fluttering her wings,’ she said, empathy lacing a voice that, had it not been agitated, would have soothed the bird. He shook himself. She was just being a typical midwife. That was how most of them had spoken to him when Clancy had disappeared.

  ‘Still breathing.’ He stroked the soft feathers as the bird lay in her small hands. ‘She’s limp, but I think if you put her in a box for a couple of hours in the dark, she’ll rouse when she’s had a sleep to get over the shock.’

  ‘Do you think so?’

  ‘I do. She’s not bleeding. Just cover the box with a light cloth so she can let you know she can fly away when she’s ready.’

  ‘Do I have to put food or water in there?’

  ‘Not food. A little water as long as she doesn’t fall into it and drown.’ He grimaced at another stupid comment.

  She grinned at him and suddenly the day was much brighter than it had been. ‘Are you a vet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Just a bird wrangler?’

  She was a stunner. He stepped back. ‘One of my many talents. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Bye.’

  She looked at him oddly. Not surprising. He was odd. He walked on up the hill.

  Her voice followed him. ‘Bye, Piper.’ He heard Piper chuckle.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Trina

  TRINA FINISHED HER night shift at seven a.m. on Friday and picked up her mini-tote to sling it on her shoulder. Her last night done, except for emergencies, and she did a little skip as she came out of the door. At first, she’d been reluctant to take the night shift to day shift change that Ellie had offered her because change could be scary, but it had started the whole paradigm inversion that her life had needed. Look out daylight. Here she comes.

  Yes. She’d come a long way in almost two years since Ed had died.

  Not just because on Monday morning she’d return as acting Midwifery Unit Manager, an unexpected positive career move for Trina at Lighthouse Bay Maternity.

  But things had changed.

  Her grief stayed internal, or only rarely escaped under her pillow when she was alone in her croft on the cliff.

  And since Ellie’s wedding last year she’d begun to think that maybe, some time in the future, she too could look at being friends with a man. If the right one came along.

  Not a relationship yet. That idea had been so terrifying, almost like PTSD—the fear of imagining what if history repeated itself; what if that immense pain of loss and grief hit her again? What then?

  She’d been catatonic with that thought and to divert herself she’d begun to think of all the other things that terrified her. She’d decided to strengthen her Be Brave muscle.

  Last week she’d had her first scuba lesson. Something that had fascinated but petrified her since she’d watched the movie Finding Nemo with the daughter of a friend. And in the sparkling cove around the corner from Lighthouse Bay the kindly instructor had been so reassuring, so patient, well... Maybe she’d go back on Saturday for another lesson.

  And when she’d mastered that she was going out on a day of deep-sea fishing. The captain’s wife had not long delivered a late-in-life baby and Trina had been the midwife. Even though he’d fainted again, he’d promised her a day of deep-sea fishing when he felt better. She’d bought seasickness bands and stored them in her drawer just in case.

  She wasn’t sure about the parachuting. The girls at work had all joined the idea factory and brochures and social media tags of extreme sports and adventure holidays appeared like magic in her pigeonhole and on her private page. Parachuting? She didn’t think so but she’d worry about that later.

  Her aim to do one challenge a month seemed possible to allay the fear that she was relying on work to be her whole world. Though not too adventurous—she didn’t want to kill herself. Not now.

  Her friends were cheering. Thinking of the midwives of Lighthouse Bay...well, that made her whole world warm into a rosy glow. A fiercely loyal flotsam of women tossed here by the fickle cruelty of life, forging into a circle of hands supporting birthing women and each other. All acutely aware of how fortunate they were to have found the magic of the bay.

  There was something healing about that crescent of sand that led to the cliffs.

  A mystical benevolence about the soaring white lighthouse on the tallest point that looked benignly over the tiny hamlet of coloured houses and shone reassuring light.

  And the pretty pastel abodes like a quaint European seaside town were a delight, a new trend that had taken off with the gentle crayon façades dipping in colour like playful toes into the sea.

  Crazy coloured houses, and if she could do all those crazy-coloured feats of bravery then just maybe she could be brave enough to begin a real conversation with a man. Like yesterday. She’d almost forgotten the handsome dad was a man when she’d snapped at him. They’d almost had a whole conversation. She wouldn’t mind another one so he didn’t think she was a short-tempered shrew but she had b
een concerned about the bird. The one that had flown away two hours later, just like he said it would.

  If she could talk to a man she could try again to go out with one. At least once. She’d been turning them down for six months now. None of them had been Ed.

  Now there were more midwives around to lessen the on-call restrictions. Four new midwives had come on board to swell their ranks with the shift to a midwife-led unit. They still had old Dr Southwell in the hospital for non-maternity patients and maternity emergencies, but all the midwives had moved to four days of ten-hour shifts and caring for a caseload of women, so suddenly there was more time for life with an extra day free and people to cover you if needed. And she’d scored the admin side Monday to Thursday, daylight hours, for a year. Starting Monday. Imagine.

  So she’d better get out there and grab that exciting life before it drifted past in a haze of regrets. She lifted her head and sucked in a pure lungful of gorgeous sea air.

  Without realising it her feet had followed the well-beaten path down to the beach and just as she turned to start her morning breakwall walk she saw the dad and his little girl come up off the beach.

  He looked happier today. Nice. It made her smile warmer. ‘Beautiful morning.’

  He looked startled for a minute. ‘Yes, it is.’ Almost as if he was surprised. ‘Good morning—how is your bird?’

  ‘Flew away two hours later. Didn’t look any worse for wear.’

  He gave her the first real smile she’d seen. ‘That’s good.’

  Then he was past. Trina turned her head to glance back and the little fair-haired girl waved.

  Trina smiled and yawned. She should go to bed and get a couple of hours’ sleep before Ellie’s farewell lunch. Just a quick walk.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Finn

  THE EARLY-MORNING BREEZE off the ocean seemed cooler. The water had taken till now to shine like a jewel. She’d been late this morning. Finn had waited a minute, hoping she wouldn’t see him do it, and strangely the minute seemed to take for ever, then he’d looked back. He’d been thinking of her last night. Wondering if she were sad about a dead bird or happy when it flew away.

  He thought back to her response. Now that was a smile. He could see it in his retina like a glance at the sun. Warm and glowing. Saw her walking quite a way in the distance—she’d moved fast. He’d noticed that before, that her pace ran to brisk rather than dawdling. Nurses often did walk briskly. Couldn’t seem to slow themselves enough to meander even on a seaside walk. He tore his eyes away.

  He’d done the breakwall walk she did a couple of times when he’d first come here but he liked the effort of walking through the sand with Piper on his back. If nothing else he’d become fit and tanned and physically healthier here in a month. And Piper too had sun-kissed limbs and sparkling eyes that exuded health.

  His sister would be pleased when she came today. His first visitor. He shied away from that intrusion into his safe world and thought again of the young midwife. Maybe not so young because he’d seen the signs of loss and life in her big coffee eyes—even in those brief glances they’d shot at each other. For the first time he wondered if other people had suffered as much as he had? Well, that at least seemed a positive sign that he could reconnect with his inherent compassion that he’d seemed to have lost.

  The thought made him wonder what it would be like to talk to someone who could actually begin to understand his hell, and then called himself crazy for making up a past about someone he didn’t know. Poor woman probably had never had a sad day in her life. But something told him otherwise.

  * * *

  Just before one p.m. his sister stepped out of her red convertible and through his front gate. ‘It’s beautiful, Finn. I can’t believe you’ve done all this yourself!’ Her perfectly pencilled brows were raised as she gazed at the pale pink external walls of the house and the rose-red door.

  He’d been a little surprised himself. And the front path bordered by pansies and baby’s breath looked as if it belonged to some older lady with a green thumb—not a guilt-deranged paediatrician running from life.

  She rocked her head slowly. He’d expected disbelief but not this patent incredulity. He felt strangely offended. ‘I didn’t even know you like to garden!’

  He shrugged, urging her towards the door. ‘Neither did I. But Piper loves being outside and we needed to do something while we’re out here.’

  Frances rubbernecked her way up the path, nice and slow for the neighbours, he thought dryly, and sighed while she gushed. She gushed when she didn’t know what to say, though what the problem was he had no idea.

  ‘And the house. Freshly painted? You actually painted?’ She glanced around. ‘Pastel like the others in the street. It’s gorgeous.’

  Finn looked at the stucco walls. They’d been a pain to paint. ‘Piper chose the colour. I would have preferred a blue but, given the choice, she went for pink every time. Never thought I’d have a stereotypical daughter.’

  Frances laughed and waved her hand dismissively. ‘Piper’s too young to choose.’

  ‘No, she’s not,’ he said mildly. ‘How can you say it’s not her choice if I give her four colours and she keeps choosing pink?’

  Frances looked at him as if he needed a big dose of sympathy for his feeble brain. ‘You didn’t pretend she was choosing?’

  ‘Who else was I going to ask?’ He heard the edge in his voice. And his sister shut up. So then he felt mean.

  It was always like this. On and on until he shut her down. She meant well, but for heaven’s sake. He wanted her gone already.

  They finally made it to the front door.

  In an attempt to lighten the mood he stopped to show her something else. ‘Piper helped everywhere.’ He kissed the top of his daughter’s head as she perched on his hip. Quiet for a change because she hadn’t quite found her ease with her aunt. Or maybe she was picking up Finn’s nervous vibes. Either way she leaned into him, unusually subdued.

  He pointed to a handprint on the front step that he’d finished with instant cement. Using a layer of cling wrap over the wet surface, he’d pressed her starfish hand into the step on each side while holding her clamped to his side. The little palm prints made him smile every time he opened the door.

  ‘Come in.’ He heard the pride in his voice and mocked himself. Finn the decorator. ‘There’s still the kitchen and laundry, but I’ve finished Piper’s corner, the bathroom and the floating boards on the floor because she’ll need a solid surface to learn to walk on.’

  Frances rotated her neck, as if stuck to the step and that was the only part of her body she could move. ‘It’s tiny.’

  He frowned. ‘Yes. It’s a beach cottage. Not a mansion.’

  She blinked. Shifted uneasily. ‘Oh, yes. Of course. But your other beautiful house...’

  ‘Is on the market.’

  Now the shock was real. Frances had approved mightily of his imposing residence on top of the hill. Two hills over from her imposing residence. He’d only liked it because Clancy, his missing wife, had loved it.

  Frances spluttered, ‘You’re buying a new house?’

  ‘I’ve bought a new house.’ He put out one hand and gestured. ‘This house. I’m staying here.’

  ‘I... I thought you’d done this for the owners. That you rented?’

  ‘I am the owner.’ A little too fierce, Finn, he chided himself.

  Frances leaned towards him pleadingly. ‘But your work?’

  ‘Will be here too when I’m ready. One of the GPs here has offered me a place in his practice when I’m ready. I’ll specialise in children but do all the GP stuff I’ve almost forgotten. It’ll be good.’ He wasn’t sure who he was convincing, Frances or himself. ‘It won’t be yet because I’m in no hurry.’

  ‘But...’

  ‘But what?’

  His sis
ter turned worried eyes on his. ‘You were only supposed to come here for a few weeks and then come back. Come home.’

  ‘Home to where, Frances? To what? To an empty castle on a hill full of ghosts and pain. To a clinic with not enough hours in the day so I had to keep my daughter in long day care?’

  Frances looked stricken and he leaned in and shared a hug with her, Piper still a limpet on his other hip. Frances meant well and she truly loved him. And now that Mum was gone she was all the family he had. Of course she’d never understood him with the ten-year age difference. Frances hadn’t understood Mum either, if they were being honest. ‘It’s okay. This is a magic place to live and for Piper and me this is the right place at the right time. We’re staying.’

  Frances almost wrung her hands. ‘You won’t meet any eligible women here.’

  He could feel his mood slip further. His irritation rise. His disappointment deepen. His sister didn’t understand his guilt couldn’t be fixed by an eligible woman. ‘Eligible for what, Frances? I’m no good for any woman at the moment and won’t be...’ he didn’t say ever ‘...for a very long time.’

  He decided not to demonstrate the shower. Or point anything else out. Ditched the plans to take a picnic to the beach.

  Instead he took Frances to the most expensive restaurant in town, where Piper slept in her stroller beside the table despite the noise of conversations and laughter all around, and listened to her stories of droll people and dire events in her husband’s practice.

  In the corner of the restaurant he noticed a very attractive brunette. She nodded at him and he realised it was his morning midwife, elegantly dressed—sans scrubs—and made-up like a model, her brown hair blow-dried and shining, the glints catching the sun. Looking like a million bucks. Other men were looking at her. He preferred the windblown version.

  She sat, a little isolated, in a lively group of people, all chinking champagne flutes to celebrate. Frances would approve of the clientele, he thought dryly, but recognised the older doctor he’d mentioned to his sister, and noted the stylish older woman next to him who leant into his shoulder, probably his wife. Another young woman he hadn’t seen around was chatting to the vibrantly glowing woman in the latter stages of pregnancy who drank water, and next to her a man hovered protectively, obviously the doting father-to-be.