A Mother's Secret (Mills & Boon Medical)

by Scarlet Wilson

  Her phone rang sharply and she pulled it out of her pocket.

  ‘Dr Halliday? Are you here yet?’ It was a deep voice and one she didn’t recognise.

  ‘That depends. What “here” do you mean? And who are you?’

  ‘Sorry. It’s Logan Scott. One of the GPs you’ll be working with. I needed to see if you could cover a shift.’

  She let out a laugh. ‘Cover a shift? I’ve just got here. And my house isn’t painted. A window’s broken, I haven’t unpacked a thing and I would have no one to look after my daughter. So, Dr Scott, I don’t think I’ll be covering any shifts any time soon.’ She winced at the snarky tone in her voice. She was taking her frustrations out on a perfect stranger—and, worse still, a new workmate.

  ‘You have a daughter? I didn’t know that.’

  She felt herself bristle. What did that mean? And what business of his was it that she had a daughter? But he continued, ‘You’re at the cottage? I’ll be there in two minutes.’

  Before she could say another thing he’d hung up. She shook her head and walked back inside, just in time to see the wooden board being taken off the window and the window frame being slid out of place.

  The underlay was already down on the floor and was being anchored in place. These removal guys really didn’t waste any time. Then again, she could bet none of them wanted to risk missing the last ferry home and being stranded for the night. She’d been warned in advance that the Arran ferry could be cancelled at the first gust of wind.

  She walked along to Isla’s room. Her bed was nestled in the corner with the new bedding and curtains sitting on top of it. Isla was on the floor with one of her boxes upended and toys spread across the floor. She was already in a world all of her own.

  Gemma’s eyes ran over the room and she gave a groan. No curtain poles. She hadn’t even given it a thought. She’d just assumed there would be some still in place. Another thing to add to the list.

  Isla’s oak wardrobe and chest of drawers had been put in place—in the exact spots where Gemma would have positioned them herself. Most of Isla’s clothes were in the car—still on their hangers—it would only take a few minutes to pick them up and start to get Isla’s room ready.

  She walked outside and opened her car door. The wind was starting to whip her dress around her legs and she grabbed it as she leaned inside to grab a handful of Isla’s clothes. The last hanger slid from her hands on to the floor between the front seats and the back. She leaned further, her feet leaving the ground as she stretched as far as she could, just as the biggest gust of wind caught her dress and billowed it upwards.

  ‘Well, there’s a sight I don’t see every day.’

  ‘What?’ Panic filled her chest as her cheeks flared with heat. Her left hand thrust out behind her and caught the wayward fabric of her dress, pulling it back firmly over her underwear as she scrambled back out the car, pulling Isla’s clothes with her. Several of the items landed on the ground at her feet. So much for keeping everything on their hangers to save time.

  She pushed her hair out of her face. She couldn’t really see properly. The cheeky stranger was standing with his back to the bright sun, which was glaring directly at her.

  ‘Look, Mummy!’ shouted Isla. ‘There’s one! I told you we’d find you a boyfriend on Arran!’

  Her eyes adjusted. Oh, no. Just what she needed. A tall, almost dark and very handsome stranger with a smattering of stubble across his face. Her biggest vice.

  Ground, open up and swallow me now. Complete and utter mortification.

  What else could go wrong?

  * * *

  Logan didn’t know who to be more amused with. The little girl for just embarrassing her mum to death, or the rogue dress and sea winds, which had just given him a glimpse of some lovely pink satin underwear.

  He held out his hand. He’d love to stay here all day, but he really needed to get things sorted. ‘Logan Scott. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ There it was. The light floral scent that he’d thought was floating in the air was actually coming from her. Hmm. He could get used to that.

  Her cheeks were scarlet. Her long curly brown hair with lighter tips was flapping around her face like mad, caught in the brisk sea winds, and her dress was once again joining in the fun. He hadn’t expected her to look quite so young. Then again, he hadn’t expected her to have a child either. Maybe he should have paid a little more attention when his colleagues had said they had recruited someone for the summer.

  The dress was really playing havoc with her. Now the pink and white material was plastered back across her body, revealing every curve, every slope and the outline of her underwire bra. Having glimpsed one half of her underwear he tried not to wonder if it was a matching set.

  It was obvious she was trying to collect her thoughts. She held out her slim hand towards his outstretched one and grasped it firmly—as if she was trying to prove a point. ‘Are you always so forward with your colleagues, Dr Scott?’

  He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Only if they look like you. Welcome to Arran, Dr Halliday.’

  The little girl waved her hand. ‘Come and see my new room, it’s beautiful.’

  Gemma tucked her hair behind her ears and thrust the pile of clothes she had in her hands towards him. Her embarrassment was still apparent, but it was clear she intended to get past it. ‘You might as well make yourself useful. These are Isla’s. Just hang them up in her cupboard.’

  For a second he was stunned. Then a smile crept across his face. It wasn’t any more presumptuous than he’d just been. Maybe he’d just met his female equivalent?

  He followed the little red-haired girl into the house and fumbled with her clothes. Most of the hangers had tangled together and some of the dresses landed in a heap at his feet as he tried to slot them in the wooden wardrobe.

  ‘Careful with this one. It’s my favourite.’

  She held up a pale blue dress with some obvious netting underneath. A little-girl princess-style dress. The kind of thing his sister would love.

  He took the dress and carefully put it on a hanger. ‘There we go. Do you want to hang it up yourself?’

  She shook her head, her curls bouncing around her. ‘No. Mum says that’s your job.’ Like mother, like daughter.

  ‘How old are you, Isla? It is Isla, isn’t it?’

  She smiled. One of her front teeth was missing. ‘I’m five. I’ll be going to the big school after the summer.’

  He nodded. ‘There’s a lovely primary school just around the corner. I’ll show you it later if you like.’ He pointed to her tooth. ‘Did the tooth fairy come?’

  She rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. ‘No, silly. The tooth fairy only comes if a tooth falls out by itself.’

  He straightened his back. ‘Why, what happened to yours?’

  She sighed. She’d gone back to her dolls and had obviously lost interest in him now. ‘I got it knocked out when I was playing football.’

  He blinked. So the little curly-haired redhead who liked princess dresses was actually a tomboy?

  Gemma appeared at the door with another pile of clothes, which she started automatically hanging in the wardrobe. ‘I can see Isla’s entertaining you with her terrifying tales.’

  Logan gave a slow nod. ‘Football?’

  Gemma nodded. ‘Football. Is there a team she can join?’

  ‘At five?’

  ‘Yes. She was in a mixed team back in Glasgow. They played in a mini-league.’

  Logan leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘I think the primary school has a football team, but I’m sure it’s the primary six and sevens. We can ask at the surgery, someone is bound to know.’

  Gemma finished hanging her clothes and turned around. ‘I’m not really sure what you’re doing here, Logan. I certainly won’t be ready to start work for a while. Look around. My contractor hasn’t appeared and one of the windows is broken.’ She ran her hand through her tangled hair. ‘And I have no idea where to start wi
th that one. The estate agent isn’t even answering her phone.’

  Logan glanced at his watch. ‘That’s because it’s a Thursday and it’s two o’clock. Nancy Connelly will be getting her hair done.’

  Gemma’s chin almost bounced off the floor. What did she expect? Logan had spent most of his life on this island and could tell her the ins, outs and daily habits of just about everyone.

  She started shaking her head. ‘Well, that’s not much use to me, is it? I would have thought she would have the courtesy to call me and let me know that my property had been damaged. I’m going to have to find out who can do replacement windows around here, and then I’m obviously going to have to find an alternative contractor since the one I’ve paid hasn’t done his job.’

  It sounded like the start of a rant. No, maybe that was unfair. She’d just arrived on a strange island with her little girl and probably wanted to get settled in straight away. At least she’d planned ahead. Her cottage was supposed to be ready just to walk into, and the reality was she wasn’t supposed to start at the GP surgery for another few weeks. He was going to have to appeal to her better nature—and just hope that she had one.

  He put up his hands. ‘Whoa. I’m sorry. I should have got to the point but you’re a bit like a whirlwind around here. Harry Burns was your contractor. The reason the work hasn’t been started is because Harry had an MI last week—just after he’d delivered your paint to start decorating. The reason the window is broken is because he was up on a ladder, cleaning out your guttering, when he fell off.’

  Gemma put her hand up to her mouth. ‘He had a heart attack here? At my house? And why on earth was he cleaning my guttering?’

  Logan shrugged. ‘Because that’s just Harry. He saw it needed doing, and thought he would help out. He was lucky. He usually works by himself, but his fourteen-year-old grandson was with him that day. He called us and we were lucky enough to get him to the hospital in time.’

  Gemma took a deep breath. ‘Do you have facilities for things like that? I thought most of the emergency stuff had to go to the mainland?’

  Logan picked his words carefully. He didn’t want to vent his frustration on their new doctor. It often took newcomers a while to adjust to what could and couldn’t be done on a small island. ‘We can treat MIs with rtPA—the same as they would get in a coronary care unit. What we can’t do is an immediate angioplasty to find the problem. So we treat the clot, ensure they’re stable then transfer them to the mainland for further treatment.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Your new window should be on the two o’clock ferry. We ordered it last week and they said they would supply and fit it today.’

  There it was. A little colour appearing in her cheeks. She blushed easily—obviously embarrassed about her earlier almost-rant of frustration.

  ‘Oh, I see. Thank you.’

  Logan knew he should probably stop there. But he couldn’t. He cared about the people on this island. ‘Do you have to have the work done straight away? Can you wait a while? Harry is already upset about the window. If he hadn’t had a heart attack I can guarantee the job would have been done perfectly for your arrival.’

  Gemma looked around her. Isla seemed oblivious to the décor. The walls were marked here and there, with the odd little dent in the plasterwork—all things that Harry had been paid to fix. Did it really matter if she had to wait a few weeks for the house to be painted, and for her feature wall to be papered in the living room? Who else was going to see the house but her and Isla?

  In an ideal world, her room would have been painted before she laid the new carpet, but she wasn’t prepared to wait. Which was just as well as the men were almost finished. They were poised outside, waiting to try and fit her sofa through the window.

  She placed her hands on her hips as she took a few steps down the corridor. The place really wasn’t too bad. It just needed freshening up. ‘I suppose it’s not the end of the world to wait a few weeks. I guess Harry will need around six weeks to make a full recovery. But I don’t want him to be pressured into working before he’s ready. Maybe it would be less pressure on him if he knew someone else had done the job?’

  He understood her reasoning. It was rational. It was also considerate. But this woman had obviously never met Harry Burns.

  He shook his head; he couldn’t help a smile appearing on his face. ‘Actually, if I tell Harry someone else is doing it, his blood pressure will probably go through the roof and he’ll have another heart attack.’

  She smiled. A genuine smile that reached right up into her warm brown eyes. ‘Well, I guess that would never do, then, would it?’

  He shook his head. She was mellowing. She seemed a little calmer. But then again, she’d just moved house—one of the most stressful things to do. That, along with the fact she was about to start a new job, meant her own blood pressure was probably through the roof. He was leaving out the most obvious fact. The one that it seemed highly likely she was a single parent.

  There was no sign of any man. And all the clothes packed into the back of the little red car were obviously hers and her daughter’s.

  His curiosity was definitely piqued. But he couldn’t show it—not for a second. On an island like Arran they’d have him huckled up the aisle in the blink of an eye and all his mother’s cronies would have their knitting needles out and asking about babies.

  ‘About work...’ he started. That was better. That was the reason he was here.

  ‘What about it?’ she said absentmindedly, as she opened a drawer and started emptying a bag of little-girl underwear into it. ‘I think I’m supposed to meet Sam Allan next Tuesday. He’s the head of the practice, isn’t he?’

  ‘Normally, he is.’ Logan chose his words carefully and let the statement sink in.

  Her eyes widened and she turned around. ‘Oh, no, what are you about to tell me?’ He could tell from the tone of her voice that she knew exactly where this conversation was headed.

  ‘About Sam...’

  ‘What about Sam, Dr Scott?’ She folded her arms across her chest.

  He almost laughed out loud at the expression on her face. Did she have any idea how identical her daughter was to her? Even though the hair and eye colour was obviously different, their expressions and mannerisms were like mirror images of each other.

  ‘I think you should start calling me Logan. We’ll be working together enough.’

  He could see her take a deep breath. He liked this woman. And as soon as he had a minute he was going to go back to the surgery and read her résumé. He could only hope that her paediatric skills would be transferable to their GP practice.

  ‘Sam Allan managed to fall down Goat Fell earlier today. It’s about the hundredth time in his life, but this time he’s been a little unlucky.’

  Her eyes narrowed. Goat Fell was the highest peak on the island. ‘How unlucky?’

  ‘Unlucky enough to break his leg.’ He couldn’t keep the sound of regret from his voice. Sam Allan was one of his greatest friends. ‘Sam’s problem is he’s nearly seventy but thinks he’s still around the age of seventeen.’

  Her words were careful, measured. ‘Then, Logan, I guess it will be you I’ll be meeting next Tuesday instead.’

  Logan scratched his chin. Stubble. He still hadn’t had time to shave. That must be around two days now. He must look a sight. Time for the bombshell.

  ‘Actually, I was kind of hoping you could start now.’

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘YOU ARE JOKING, right?’

  He shook his head and lifted his hands. ‘Nothing like the present time to get started.’

  She looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘Look around you, Logan. Do I look like I’m ready to do any kind of GP surgery right now?’ She pointed at the cottage. ‘I haven’t unpacked a thing. My removals men are still here. I’ve got a broken window. And I haven’t even started to look for childcare for Isla.’ Her hand lifted up to her face. ‘Oh, no.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sam Allan was goi
ng to put me in touch with some people who might have been able to help with Isla. He’s not going to be able to do that now.’

  Logan felt a little twist in his gut. He could picture in his head exactly who Sam might have had in mind. And he wished he’d talked to him about it first.

  Logan’s mum was as desperate to be a grandparent as his sister was desperate to be a mother. He didn’t have a single doubt that Sam would have volunteered her as a surrogate granny for Isla.

  And, after having met Isla, he knew instantly they would be a perfect match. His mother would love the little girl who had an old head on her shoulders. And Isla would love the fact that she could have his mother’s undivided attention.

  So, why did it make him squirm a little?

  His mother had been lonely these last few years. The unexpected death of his father ten years ago had been a bombshell for them all. One moment playing golf on a summer’s day, next moment an aortic aneurysm had killed him instantly. Logan had just completed his first year as a junior doctor and taken up a post in a medical unit in Glasgow. Guilt had plagued him.

  If only he’d come home the week before, the way he’d been supposed to. Maybe he would have noticed some minor symptoms that could have alerted him to his father’s condition. The looks on the faces of his mother and sister as they’d met him from the boat would stay with him for ever. He hadn’t been there when his family had needed him most.

  He’d always put his dad on a pedestal, and even to this day he still missed him. He’d been a fantastic father. Smart, encouraging, with a big heart and an even bigger sense of humour. Filling his shoes as the island GP had been a daunting task. Even now, some of the older patients referred to him as ‘young Dr Scott’.

  His mother had probably always imagined she would have a house full of grandchildren at this point. Something to fill her days, keep her busy and keep her young.

  But things just hadn’t worked out that way for Claire, or for him.