For Rohan it was solitude in Scott Rainford’s empty house, but he couldn’t help wondering what was going on over at Abbey’s. ‘Probably a crying baby, two surly teenagers and a senile aunt,’ he said out loud, and then had to laugh at his own moroseness.
It was all none of his business and, knowing Abbey, everything would be running smoothly. She’d be quietly working away in the background to make sure it did. For some ridiculous reason, he worried that she ran herself into the ground looking after all these needy people. A vision of Abbey came to him, tired after work, wiping the perspiration from her brow as she cooked the dinner for her guests, then the wash and clean up as well before falling into bed, exhausted.
The ‘falling into bed’ bit shifted his mental state from concern to frustration. Simmering frustration and all those thoughts he’d had yesterday came crowding back. If he was honest with himself, he’d like to be the one that Abbey fell into bed with. He’d help take her mind off all these other people. He could be the one to spend a little time on Abbey. If he had Abbey in his bed—he paused and savoured the concept, Abbey of the long legs and soft skin and that curve from her shoulder to her hairline—he’d feel privileged to show her how she deserved to be treated. He’d spoil her so much she’d fall asleep in his arms exhausted for a far better reason than housework.
Rohan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It must be too long since he’d had a steamy affair. Dalliance and convent Abbey were an unlikely combination and right up there in the realms of fantasy. Platonic friendship was about as far as he’d get with Abbey. Sex aside, maybe he could take her around and introduce her to some of the fun she was missing before he left. The woman deserved a life outside work and philanthropy.
He’d bet she hadn’t spent time on herself in years. They could do dinner and dancing and he enjoyed her company. Showing Abbey a good time became a great idea. It beat the hell out of him spending his out-of-work hours alone for the next week or so and it was all in a good cause. The ‘Save Abbey from the Doldrums’ campaign.
He’d work on it and he’d make sure she didn’t get hurt. Even Scott had said he must look after Abbey.
CHAPTER FOUR
‘HI, ABBEY. I have a brilliant idea.’
Abbey looked at the dark-eyed mischief glowing from Rohan Roberts’s face and mock-shuddered. She continued to fold nappies. ‘I really don’t think I want to know.’
‘You need to take pity on me,’ he said. ‘Here I am, new in town and hardly knowing a soul. And it’s Friday. The most rapport I’ve established is with a very strict and moralistic nursing sister and I just want to have fun. You have to help me.’
‘What on earth are you going on about?’ Abbey wasn’t sure she approved of his description of her but there was something about Rohan today that shrieked danger and Abbey was quite happy to listen to her inner warning system. ‘Cancel that question. What ever it is—I’m not interested.’
He ignored her answer. ‘Take me out. Show me the sights.’
He smiled that killer smile and Abbey resisted the urge to cover her heart with her hand to ward off the waves of attraction that were flowing her way. He paced the room and Abbey followed the ripple of well-toned muscles as he moved. No man had the right to be so compelling.
He went on. ‘I’m only here for two weeks and we’ve almost finished one. You’re not some young, impressionable girl who will think she’s in love with me. We can be friends and do fun things just for the…’ He hesitated and changed the word. ‘Heck of it.’
Abbey stifled a laugh. ‘Gee, thanks. I’m old, unimpressionable, very strict and moralistic.’ She tilted her head and continued dryly, ‘And you have tickets on yourself. Considering all that, what on earth makes you think that me taking you out would be fun?’
He stopped in front of her and his eyes were suddenly a very different dark, more of slumbering darkness, a darkness that sent tiny shivers down Abbey’s back. ‘Because, sweet Abbey, you are also strong and valiant and honest and funny. I enjoy your company because you make me feel alive.’
Abbey blinked and the warmth in her face warned her about the sudden colour in her cheeks. She threw down the nappy in her hand and moved away from him towards the window, slid open the latch and let the cool air bathe her back to sanity. The man was like a glass of champagne and she normally didn’t drink.
He had no idea how boring she was or what a disappointment she would be. ‘Sorry. I’m busy.’ She turned back to face him. ‘Find someone else to play with. Unlike you, I have responsibilities and I take them seriously.’
‘That’s right,’ he said, and his voice had flattened. ‘Too seriously.’ Then he shrugged off the darkness and smiled again. ‘Think about it, anyway. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow morning.’
Abbey’s ‘Don’t bother’ was lost in the slam of the front door as he whistled his way down the steps.
Abbey stared after him. What on earth had brought that on? And a voice inside asked what she was missing by refusing to go out with him.
Abbey frowned. She wasn’t missing out on anything. She was settled in her life and was busy enough without the need to fit in pleasure jaunts to amuse the transient Dr Roberts.
The insistent ring of the telephone dragged her back to the present and Abbey was glad of the distraction. The casualty department needed a bed, she was told. The rest of the hospital was full and would Abbey take a young woman with a threatened miscarriage?
‘If she’s happy to come over here, of course I will. Bring her now and I’ll have the room ready.’
Abbey turned the bed down in the room further-most from the nursery, thankful that the babies in there at the moment were reasonably quiet.
When Mary Pace arrived she was pale and tearful and Abbey helped her gently into bed. ‘Have you much pain at the moment, Mary?’ Abbey asked.
Mary shook her head. ‘My stomach cramped all through the night but it’s a little better at the moment. I’m so scared I’m going to lose my baby.’
Mary stifled a sob and Abbey squeezed the young woman’s shoulder and handed her a tissue. ‘It is scary, and the hard thing is we can’t do anything to make it better until your body and your baby make a decision.’
Abbey tucked the girl in. ‘Just rest. I know it’s hard to try to sleep, but sleep is the best way to make yourself more relaxed.’
Mary nodded and closed her eyes. Abbey tucked the nurse’s call button under Mary’s pillow and left the door ajar so she could check on her patient without waking her.
She carried Mary’s medical notes back to the desk and read what the outpatient doctor had written. It wasn’t promising. Bleeding was bad enough, but when it was accompanied by cramps things were looking grim. Abbey remembered it all too well.
At one o’clock that afternoon Mary lost her baby.
Abbey cried with her, then called Rohan. They rang Mary’s husband, a truck driver, and he promised to come as soon as he could.
When Rohan came up to check Mary’s condition, his sympathy and clear explanations seemed to help Mary who just wanted to go home to her husband.
‘As soon as he gets back into town, he can pick you up,’ Rohan said. ‘Thankfully your bleeding has settled down enough for you not to require an operation as well. Because you’ve had one miscarriage it doesn’t mean you are more likely to have another. Even two miscarriages are still bad luck. Often the reason is because some building block that was needed for the next stage of growth of your baby was missing. Babies can grow until they need the missing ingredient and then they just stop growing.
‘It is not your fault. Although we can usually find something to feel guilty about if we try hard enough.’ He met Mary’s eyes compassionately and she gave a half laugh, half sob.
‘I do feel guilty that I may have done too much yesterday,’ she said.
He nodded. ‘We always do. There was nothing you could do to change the outcome, Mary.’
Abbey had never heard miscarriage explained like that before and
she wished someone had said something like that to her.
Rohan went on, ‘It’s normal to grieve because you have lost your baby and all the dreams that went with it. Try not to let anyone upset you when they don’t understand your grief. You and your husband know it’s real and we know it’s real. Abbey will ask the grief counsellor to see you before you leave so that you’ll know her personally in case you want to ring her. I’ll see you next week so write down any questions you may have in the next few days.’ He smiled gently and squeezed Mary’s hand. ‘Please, don’t bottle it up. It’s OK to cry.’
Abbey’s throat was thick with emotion and she blinked back the tears, wishing that Rohan would finish because if he didn’t she’d have to go to the change room and have a big howl herself.
Thankfully, his pager went off, and he glanced at it before looking back at Mary. ‘Anything else you need to know?’ Mary shook her head, so he pressed her shoulder and then left for the other side of the hospital.
Abbey sighed with relief.
‘He seems a good man.’ Mary leaned back and her eyes filled again as the reality of the miscarriage sank into her mind. It was all over. Her baby was gone.
‘He is a good doctor,’ Abbey agreed. She could see the girl was struggling with her control. ‘Do you want to talk or just be alone for a while?’
Mary bit her lip. ‘I think I’d like to be alone, thanks, Abbey. I’ll ring the bell if I need you. Thank you for being so kind.’ Abbey hugged Mary and talked sternly to herself as she walked up the hallway. She did not need to cry about a baby she had lost ten years ago. But that’s what she was doing when Rohan found her.
‘Abbey?’ Rohan came further into the room and closed the change-room door behind him. She looked like a damp swan with her neck bent in a tragic droop. ‘Why are you crying?’ Normally Rohan would run a mile from this kind of situation because it smacked of getting involved, and getting involved wasn’t a part of his life.
But he couldn’t leave Abbey like this.
He put his arm around her, not sure if she would push him away, and to his relief she didn’t. It actually felt nice to be able to give her some platonic comfort. But she only allowed it for a moment.
‘I’m being silly, don’t worry about me,’ she mumbled into his shirt, then stepped back out of his embrace. She turned her back on him and he heard her blow her nose. There was something ridiculously endearing about her lack of inhibition. Then she sniffed. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Is this about Mary’s baby or is there some other reason you’re so upset?’ Rohan hadn’t associated Abbey with an excess of emotion so there had to be some reason.
Abbey looked at him and he thought she was going to say it was none of his business. She blinked, and he realised he enjoyed knowing that she was ordering her thoughts when she did that. Then she sighed.
‘I miscarried my baby at nine weeks and I never really allowed myself to grieve over the loss. I guess listening to you explain it all to Mary must have pulled the stopper out or something.’ She shrugged and stared at a point across the room. She hesitated and then went on. ‘It was all a very long time ago. Ten years. I’d been engaged up until a week before I found out I was pregnant and pregnancy was the last thing I needed. I ignored it, didn’t tell anyone, and then when I lost the baby the guilt was too much for me. So I shut it all away.’ She looked at him again. ‘The only person who knew was my doctor, and I’d prefer you didn’t tell anyone either.’
Rohan was surprised how privileged Abbey sharing this with him made him feel. He moved slowly so as not to startle her and drew her gently into his arms again. She let him hold her for a moment and he wished he could take her pain away. The sniff of danger that thought left him with made him stiffen. Involvement. He stepped back before she could. ‘I’m sorry you had to go through that alone. One day you’ll be a wonderful mother.’
Abbey seemed to find that bitterly amusing. ‘I’m going to be a wonderful aunt and friend.’ She walked over and opened the door. ‘And I need to get back to my ward.’ She inclined her head towards the exit and Rohan took the hint. ‘I’d like to wash my face.’ Her voice dropped. ‘Thank you for understanding.’
Rohan nodded. ‘I’m here if you need to talk.’ Then he heard himself say, ‘And don’t forget I might need you tomorrow.’ The residual pain he’d seen in her face reinforced his determination to do something for her.
Platonically, of course. She gave so much to others but, like his mother, she forgot about herself. Abbey needed to have fun and see that life was for living and not just for helping other people to survive their lives. Maybe there was something he could do about that in the time that he had left in Gladstone.
* * *
When she went home that afternoon, Abbey wandered into Aunt Sophie’s room and sat down.
‘Hello, Abbey, love.’ Sophie looked up from her races and smiled. ‘Got a problem?’
‘No, no problem. I just wondered if you thought I was moralistic and strict and unimpressionable.’ She half laughed. ‘I know you don’t think I’m old.’
Sophie’s face turned into a prune with disbelief. ‘So who’s the moron?’
Abbey laughed out loud this time at her aunt’s fierce loyalty. ‘He’s not a moron. It was the doctor relieving Scott Rainford.’
‘Not the Rohan-sigh-Roberts that Vivie’s been mooning over?’ Sophie pretended to spit. ‘If I hear his name again I’ll puke in Bella’s pot plant.’ She looked across at the pumpkin-sized pot beside the window then turned back to Abbey. ‘Why would he say something to hurt you?’
Abbey sighed. This was harder to explain than she’d thought and she wished she’d never started it. ‘He didn’t say it to hurt me.’ Sophie made a rude sound then added, ‘Moron,’ for good measure.
Abbey suppressed a smile. ‘Despite all these things he said I was, he also said that I should take him out and show him the sights because it would be fun. He’s only in town for two weeks.’
Sophie cut to the chase. ‘And you said?’
Abbey shrugged and avoided her aunt’s eyes. ‘I said I had responsibilities and took them seriously.’
‘What? Too many responsibilities to have fun?’ Sophie snorted. ‘Rubbish. We’re all capable of minding ourselves.’ She stroked the hairs on her chin. ‘Would taking this moron around be fun?’
‘Aunt Sophie! He’s not a moron and, yes, I imagine it could be fun if we didn’t spend too much time bickering.’
Sophie shrugged and picked up the racing form again.
‘So we’ll see you Monday.’
Abbey blinked. ‘I said no.’
Sophie let the form drop for a moment and glared at her niece over the top of it. ‘Good, clean fun—’ she punctuated the words with a bony finger ‘—is just what you need. The next time he asks you, say yes.’
* * *
The phone rang at eight o’clock on Saturday morning. Abbey looked at the handset as if it was a snake until she realised if she didn’t pick it up the noise would wake everyone in the house. She snatched it up so quickly she nearly dropped the thing. ‘Hello?’
‘Good morning, Abbey. Were you still in bed?’ Rohan’s voice seemed deeper than usual and Abbey closed her eyes and wondered what she was doing even considering spending more time in his company. During the long sleepless night she’d regretted telling him about her miscarriage. But she did feel as if her guilt had lightened. Which in itself was a worry if she began to get used to having Rohan to unburden herself to. Scary thought. She’d definitely decided not to go out with him if he asked.
‘Hello,’ he said again. She hadn’t answered him.
‘No. I was up. What can I do for you, Rohan?’
She could hear the laughter in his voice and because he couldn’t see it she allowed herself a small soft smile. He was such a character.
‘A small jaunt to start. This morning I think you should show me the sights and I’ll provide the lunch along the way.’
Abbey gave in and sigh
ed loudly into the phone. ‘I suppose I can manage this morning, but only because I feel sorry for you. Are we going in your car or Doris?’
‘Definitely Doris. After all, you are the host. I’ll be at your place in an hour.’ Then he hung up.
Abbey looked into the mouthpiece of the phone wryly and then put it back on the hook. It had never taken her an hour to get ready in her life but she quickened her step—just in case!
When Abbey dropped the morning paper with race guides in to her aunt, Sophie quizzed her on the phone call. ‘So, was that him on the phone?’
Abbey could feel the smile on her face as she nodded. ‘He wants to see the sights and we’re going in Doris. I’ll be back after lunch.’
‘No matter if you’re not.’ Sophie’s eyes twinkled.
As Abbey left the room Sophie called after her, ‘And if he wants to drive—let him!’
At exactly nine o’clock the doorbell rang. Abbey took a deep breath and opened the door. Rohan’s eyes were laughing at her and to hide the colour in her cheeks she looked down. Bad mistake. Black, hip-hugging jeans covered his powerful thighs and his hat rested in one large hand and shrieked, Virile man ready and waiting.
As her gaze swept up past the buckled belt to his open-necked shirt Abbey couldn’t help the tremor of excitement that belied her calm expression. His rugged good looks would stir a woman less impressionable than her and she needed to keep a level head. He was leaving Gladstone soon, she reminded herself.
Rohan waited for Abbey to speak and when she didn’t he cleared his throat. He wished it was that easy to clear his mind. Mentally he was fogged by the unexpected picture of Abbey’s magnificent hair loose and framing her face. It made her look younger and more vulnerable. Which was a worry. ‘Are you ready, then?’ he said, and tried not to stare at the modest V-necked pullover that outlined her ample breasts. Why on earth had he always fancied thin women before Abbey?
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