Wife and Mother Wanted

by Nicola Marsh

  ‘Promise?’

  Once again Molly’s big blue eyes beseeched him, the shimmer of tears reaching a fist into his gut and twisting till he could hardly see straight.

  He nodded and smoothed a few wispy strands of hair from her cheeks. ‘You shut your eyes for now, and it will all be better in the morning.’

  ‘Don’t leave me, Daddy,’ she murmured, her eyes fluttering with fatigue as she battled sleep.

  ‘I’ll be right here, sweetheart.’ He dropped a light kiss on her cheek before tucking the sheet around her as she slipped into slumber. He stepped just outside the cubicle.

  ‘Is she okay?’ Carissa flew to his side and grabbed hold of his arm as soon as he emerged.

  He nodded and rubbed a hand over his face, wondering if he’d ever grow used to the monstrous responsibility of fatherhood. He cherished every minute with Molly, and now just when he’d thought he had a handle on the constant fear that one day she’d be taken from him, this happened.

  The fear was always there, a faithful companion that never left his side, and with it came the knowledge that whatever choices he made in his life, whatever he did, it all came back to the little girl lying on the bed behind this hospital curtain.

  He would have to do better, that was all.

  And being distracted by thoughts of anything more than friendship with the beautiful woman hanging onto his arm this very minute was not helping.

  Shrugging off Carissa’s hand, he said, ‘She’ll be fine. The doc said it’s a mild concussion. Once she’s slept it off and the stitches heal she’ll be all right.’

  ‘Thank God.’ Carissa stepped back from him, and he hated the hurt he glimpsed in her eyes—and the fact that he’d put it there.

  She’d been amazing tonight—listening to him, supporting him, making him realise that there was a life for him to lead. She genuinely cared about other people, particularly kids, and her dressing-down about how he’d been neglecting Molly was an indication of that.

  Deep down, he knew she was right. He never bought Molly little surprises, like the hair bows or the bracelet, and he knew he avoided talking about Jackie with their daughter.

  However, he couldn’t handle it now. He needed to focus on Molly, and he sure as hell didn’t need Carissa hanging around to remind him of how great she was, or what he’d be missing out on by stomping on any possibility of a relationship between them.

  For, as much as he’d decided to start living again, he knew now wasn’t the time. Molly’s accident tonight had been a sign. He had to focus on his daughter, repair the damage he’d done by not paying her enough attention. Only then could he move forward to a future for himself.

  ‘Here.’ He fished the car keys from his pocket and tossed them to her. ‘You take my car. I’m spending the night here.’

  She caught the keys in a reflex reaction and stared at them as if she’d never seen the bits of metal before.

  ‘You sure everything’s okay?’ Her gaze sought his, seeking reassurance he couldn’t give.

  In fact, he couldn’t give her much at all right now.

  ‘Molly is fine; I’m fine,’ he snapped, feeling like a jerk when she flinched.

  But maybe that was a good thing? If he pushed her away now, shattered the illusion of close camaraderie that had developed over the last few hours—no, over the last few months, if he were completely honest with himself—surely she’d take the hint that they couldn’t share anything more?

  The theory was good—though in practice, with the woman he’d grown exceedingly fond of staring at him as if he’d morphed into a monster, he softened his stance.

  ‘Look, thanks for being here, but I need to be alone with Molly right now. You should go home.’

  ‘Okay.’ She shrugged and turned away, but not before he saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.

  Hell.

  But he was doing this for her own good. He had nothing to give her—not now, perhaps not ever. Molly was his number one priority, and tonight’s drama reinforced that.

  Though making a woman cry wasn’t his style, and he hated the feeling gnawing at his gut that he’d disappointed her in some way.

  ‘Carissa?’

  ‘Yes?’ She spun around so quickly that it took every ounce of will-power not to drag her into his arms and cradle her close.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He’d intended to plant a brief, impersonal kiss on her cheek, but she turned her head at the last second and his lips landed on hers, their pliant softness enticing him to linger longer than necessary. And for one sweet moment he was happy to prolong the contact, to lose himself in the possibility of what might be.

  Before reality crashed in, fuelled by hospital sounds—which included a crying child. He pulled away, sent her a brief nod and moved back inside Molly’s cubicle, intent on fulfilling his parental responsibility at the expense of his heart.

  The next evening, Carissa glanced out of her front window repeatedly, waiting for a sign of life at the Elliott household. Brody had arrived home with Molly around two and carried her into the house, the little girl clutching a giant teddy bear almost as big as herself, and it had taken all her will-power not to rush over to the house and see if Molly was okay.

  However, she didn’t want to intrude, and had thrown herself into a baking frenzy, making enough choc-peppermint friands, brownies and lemon slices to feed half the town. Besides, Brody had made it more than clear last night that he didn’t need her, let alone want her around, and she wanted to give father and daughter some breathing space—just as he’d asked.

  At six o’clock the front door at the Elliotts’ opened and Molly stuck her head out, the white bandage on her forehead glowing like a beacon in the rays of the setting sun.

  That was all the encouragement Carissa needed to grab the box of brownies she’d packed earlier and all but run across the lawn towards Molly.

  ‘Carissa! Look at my head. It’s all banged up.’ Molly proudly pointed to her forehead and Carissa tried not to grimace as she spied the size of the purple lump poking out from the bottom of the bandage.

  ‘Yes, I can see that. How are you feeling, sweetie?’

  ‘Much better. Daddy brought me a teddy who has a bandage on his head too, so I can look after him and he can look after me.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Where is your daddy? She wanted to ask, but bit her tongue. The way she was feeling right now, Brody was the last person she wanted to see.

  He’d hurt her badly, when she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let any man do that to her again. Stupidly, she’d been so busy telling herself she didn’t want a relationship that she’d forgotten how addictive being friends with a guy could be—especially one as sexy as her neighbour. She’d opened her heart to him as a friend, and had it broken by him when she’d finally acknowledged he meant so much more to her than that.

  ‘Are those for me?’ Molly’s eyes grew wide as she pointed to the candy-striped box tied with red ribbon in Carissa’s hands.

  ‘Uh-huh. Brownies just for you.’

  ‘Oh, boy!’ Molly rubbed her tummy with one hand while reaching for the box with the other. ‘I bet brownies are real good for sore heads.’

  Carissa laughed and bent down to hug Molly, thankful that the little girl seemed unharmed apart from the egg-sized bump on her forehead.

  ‘Hey, Carissa.’

  The door swung open fully and Brody stepped out onto the porch, dark rings of fatigue circling his eyes, his hair uncombed and a five o’clock shadow bristling along his jaw. He looked like hell, and all she wanted to do was wrap her arms around him and comfort him. But she couldn’t. In fact, she probably wouldn’t get the opportunity to get as close to him as she had last night ever again.

  If he didn’t want her spending time with Molly he sure wouldn’t want her anywhere near him, and the injustice of it all ravaged her anew.

  ‘Hi, Brody. I just came over to drop some brownies off and to see how Molly’s doing.’

  ‘Brownies
are good for sore heads, aren’t they, Daddy?’ Molly clutched the box as if it contained the Crown Jewels, looking to her father with a cheeky grin on her face as if daring him to disagree.

  ‘They sure are,’ he said, winking at Molly and dropping a kiss on top of her head.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, resting a hand on Molly’s shoulder, the icy distance she’d glimpsed in his eyes at the hospital last night replaced by a wary warmth.

  ‘No problems. I’ll leave you to it.’

  ‘Thanks, Carissa. Daddy said I can go to school tomorrow—and he’s going to work.’

  Work? Since when did Brody have a job? And why hadn’t he told her about it over dinner?

  Perhaps he was too busy fielding your other personal questions—like how did his wife die and did he still love her?

  He’d answered both questions. The first with words, the second with actions. It didn’t take an Einstein to figure out why he’d pushed her away at the hospital. If the guy had guilt issues about being responsible for his wife’s death, it would be nothing on how guilty he’d feel after kissing her.

  Carissa had practically invited that kiss, and any hot-blooded male would have responded. However, Brody wasn’t just any male. He was a guy so in love with his dead wife’s memory that he hadn’t been out in four years—had shut himself away from the world and pushed away anyone who came too close. And with that kiss, with their developing friendship, she’d obviously got way too close.

  ‘You’ve found a job?’

  ‘Yeah. Molly, why don’t you take those brownies inside and I’ll be in soon?’

  ‘Okay, Daddy. Thanks for the brownies, Carissa. Bye.’

  ‘Bye, sweetie. See you soon.’ But sadly she wouldn’t. Not if Brody had his way.

  ‘Must be some job if you can’t talk about it in front of Molly.’

  ‘She looks tired. I don’t want her spending too much time out here the way she’s feeling.’

  Oh-oh. Looks like Molly’s accident has notched up Brody’s over-protectiveness. Carissa hoped he wouldn’t take her advice too literally. Molly needed more attention, not smothering.

  ‘So what’s the job?’

  ‘Daisy suggested I put some of my old training to use and open up a project for kids. Sort of like a careers counsellor, big brother kind of thing—a place where local kids can just hang out, play a bit of sport, have a chat if they need to. It’s in the early stages, but I’m pretty excited about it.’

  ‘That’s great. This town has needed something like that for ages—especially for the teenagers. Most of them hang out at the skateboard ramp looking bored.’

  He shrugged off her admiration as if it meant little. ‘I’ve seen what boredom can do to kids. Some of them run away and end up in all sorts of nasty situations. I worked the King’s Cross beat in Sydney in my rookie year, and what I saw wasn’t pretty, so I’ve had an interest ever since. I even did a social work course part-time—just so I could get a handle on what these kids think, what they go through. Looks like it’ll come in handy now.’

  While she couldn’t help but admire his crusade, a small part of her couldn’t ignore the fact that he had a child of his own at home—a needy child who could do with a little more of her father’s attention.

  ‘Sounds like you’ll have your hands full. Good luck with it.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  An awkward silence ensued, and Carissa missed the easygoing camaraderie of the previous evening. As far as she could see Brody was getting his life back on track: new town, new job, renewed enthusiasm. Pity he couldn’t go the whole way and dim the torch he still held for his wife.

  ‘Okay. I guess I’ll be seeing you.’

  ‘Yeah. See you.’

  He couldn’t have looked less enthused if he’d tried, and she sent him a half-wave as she trudged across the lawn towards her place, blinking back tears.

  Losing a friend would have been bad enough, but since that scintillating kiss last night, and the feelings it had made her face up to, losing Brody suddenly hurt a whole lot more.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  ‘SO HOW was dinner the other night?’ Tahnee munched through her second croissant of the day and closed her eyes in bliss. ‘I haven’t seen or heard from you since. It must’ve been some night.’

  Yes, it certainly had been some night. She’d finally got Brody to open up, only to lose him in the process. Some night indeed.

  ‘Dinner was lovely. You were right, the food at Kangaroo Corner is superb. I ate—’

  ‘Sis, I’m not interested in your culinary explorations. Tell me about big, bad Brody. Anything going on between you two?’

  ‘No. He’s just a friend.’

  Though perhaps she should say was a friend. She hadn’t seen him since she’d dropped the brownies off the other night and, true to his word, she hadn’t seen Molly either.

  She missed them both more than she could possibly imagine, and had no idea how to rectify the situation. So he’d taken her advice to spend more time with Molly on board? Why did it have to be at her expense? Couldn’t he see how much Molly meant to her? How much he meant to her?

  ‘Then why the glum look? Did you two have an argument or something?’

  ‘Or something,’ Carissa muttered, laying down her half-eaten croissant—her first, which showed just how awful she felt. Even the melt-in-your-mouth-chocolate-and-banana-flakiest-crescents-on-the-planet held no appeal any more.

  ‘Ohhh…I get it.’ Tahnee brushed crumbs off her jeans, sat back, and tucked her legs beneath her. ‘It’s like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Sis, if I have to tell you, you’re in worse shape than I thought.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘Okay. The way I see it, you two have been friends for months now. You spend more time with his daughter than her great-aunt does, he finally asks you out on a date, and now you look like all the fairies in your shop have come to life and run off with the rest of the merchandise. It can only mean one thing.’

  I love him.

  Tahnee didn’t have to spell it out. Carissa had spent the last few nights tossing and turning, trying to evaluate her feelings, knowing the answers but deliberately avoiding asking the tough questions.

  Do you love Molly enough to be her mum? Yes.

  Do you want to be part of their family? Yes.

  Do you love Brody? Ummm…

  She’d faltered at that last one time and time again—not willing to go there, not willing to open herself up to the possibility of being hurt.

  He didn’t love her; he loved another woman—one she could never compete with. Why put herself through that?

  And suddenly, this morning, as dawn had filtered through her gossamer-thin curtains, she’d had a light-bulb moment.

  She was doing the same thing he was: shying away from taking a risk, from living life to the full, from opening herself up to the possibility of love…and the possibility of heartache.

  And in that instant, as soft sunlight had flooded her room in a golden glow, she’d known the answer to that last question.

  Yes. Yes, yes, yes! She loved Brody.

  The part she hadn’t quite figured out yet was what she was going to do about it.

  ‘One thing, huh?’ Hugging her knees to her chest, Carissa rocked back and forth on the floor, staring up at her sister, who sat on the couch with a grin on her face. ‘So what’s this “one thing” you’re gibbering on about?’

  ‘It’s time to pull out the big guns.’

  ‘Which are?’

  ‘Sun, surf and sand.’ Tahnee ticked the list off her fingers while Carissa wondered if she came from another planet. She had no idea what her sister was on about half the time, and now was no exception.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You two need a getaway. Somewhere away from here, where you can really unwind, talk, get rid of all this pent-up tension. Go to Bondi—have a swim, drink lattes at the cafés, let your hair down.’

  ‘Have you lost your marbles?
He’d never go for that!’ And she’d be way too embarrassed to ask him.

  Tahnee shrugged, stretched her arms and studied her French-manicured fingernails. ‘Fine. Have it your way. But seriously, Sis, you need to do something. Otherwise I can see you two dancing around each other for years to come. Boring.’

  And what was wrong with that?

  Boring was good. Boring was safe.

  But hadn’t she realised as dawn broke this morning that she didn’t want to play it safe?

  Feeling like a fool, Carissa peeped out of the front window of the shop every few minutes, wishing Brody would hurry up and arrive before she lost the last of her already dwindling supply of courage.

  She’d mulled over Tahnee’s suggestion for a week—a long week, in which she’d seen Molly once and even less of Brody, who vanished into his house quicker than a mouse down a hole whenever he stepped from his car. What did he think she would do? Ambush him?

  Like now?

  Telling her conscience to shut up, she locked the cash register for the night and flipped the sign on the front door to ‘Closed’. Besides, this wasn’t an ambush. She just needed to see the guy—to spend more than two seconds with him to say her piece and be done with it.

  If she didn’t pluck up the courage to take the plunge this one time, she’d spend her whole life wondering ‘what if?’—and she didn’t want to do that. She’d wasted enough years doing that as a child, wondering ‘What if her parents had lived?’; ‘What if she’d never been separated from her sisters?’; ‘What if the Lovells had never adopted her?’. Pointless questions, and she’d learned to just get on and do things without dwelling on the past—without wishing she could change things.

  Now, if only she could instil some of that wisdom into Brody…

  A sharp knock on the door brought her out of her reverie and she smiled, flipped the lock and beckoned him in.

  ‘It sounded like it was an emergency when you called,’ Brody said, glancing around the shop as if he expected to see a burst water main or the ceiling collapsed. ‘I came as fast as I could, and I’ve got my tools in the car.’

  ‘Ooh, there you go again—saying the tool word.’