A Special Kind of Family (11 page)

Dom was kissing her and the pain his words had caused was gone. She was singing inside. Her Dom. They were safe and warm and at peace, and she was in the arms of the man she loved. She was floating, dreamlike, responding to his kiss with every fibre of her being.

Dom, she whispered in her heart. Dom.

What the hell was he doing?

He was kissing a woman as he’d never kissed one before.

He was needing a woman.

She was luscious under his hands, soft, yielding but wanton.

Wanton. The word played in the back of his brain, in the tiny section that was free to think anything at all. For now wasn’t about thinking. It was about feeling, touching, tasting, all five
senses awake, alive, tuned to this woman as he’d never been tuned to a woman before.

Wanton.

That was the way she was with him. He knew—in that part of his brain he hadn’t seemed to possess until he’d met her—that wanton wasn’t an adjective he’d ever hear applied to Erin. She was the good child, the compliant, clever daughter, the dutiful and faithful friend.

She’d done all she was supposed to in life—but right now she was pleasing herself.

She wanted him as desperately as he wanted her.

Every part of her was yielding. Her body was crushed against his, her breasts moulding deliciously against his chest, her mouth closed on his, her tongue…her tongue…

She tasted of salt and heat and want. She tasted of everything he’d ever dreamed of.

His kiss deepened and she matched him, demanding as much as she gave, willing him to want more.

His hands tugged her hard against him, his fingers cupping her butt in her silken pyjamas so she was pulled right against him. She was doing her own tugging.

He could do with her what he willed and he knew that she’d come.

She’d follow where he led, or she’d lead herself if he willed.

He should stop. He had to stop.

But he could no sooner tear himself away from her than he could fly. He felt as if a part of him that had been torn away at birth had miraculously come home.

Erin…

Her hair smelled of smoke.

Erin.

The fire crackled in the grate, a small hissing explosion. It caught him. Pulled him up.

No.

Hell, what was he doing?

He was hers. Whatever he’d ask of her in this moment she’d give. She could love him no more in the future than she did now.

He was her man. She was his woman and she’d come home.

Dom.

This was a long, lingering kiss, deep and sweet and right. She clung to him and he held her close, savouring the kiss as she savoured it, deepening it as she deepened it. Tugging her closer. Closer.

Loving her as she loved him?

But…Maybe not. No!

For the fire had spat and hissed and he’d pulled away as she could never have pulled away. Now he was holding her at arm’s length, gazing at her as one might gaze at a precious, unattainable thing. Something so far out of his reach it was a dream.

‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Dom…’

‘I just…meant to tell you…meant to show you why your offer is impossible.’ His voice was shaken. Desperate. ‘It’s the most generous offer I’ve ever heard—to give up your city practice and come here. But there’s this between us…There’s this. I never meant it to go so far.’

‘So?’

‘I don’t want it.’

‘It seems to me,’ she whispered, fingers of ice suddenly whispering their way round her heart, ‘that you do want it. As much as I do.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘You’ve been here for less than two days. This makes no sense.’

‘It makes all the sense in the world.’

‘No,’ he said, more strongly now. ‘You’re sweet and smart and beautiful and I’m not about to take advantage.’

‘Hey! Isn’t that ever so slightly patronising?’

‘Whatever. But it’s true.’ He kissed her again then, but lightly this time, holding himself rigidly under control. The
drama of the night had unveiled his need, but he had himself back together.

He slipped from under her blankets and rose and she could have wept.

‘I want to help,’ she said, and if she sounded needy she couldn’t help it.

‘I can’t accept.’

‘You might have to accept,’ she whispered. ‘This community is too big for one doctor. You’re doing what you have to. Maybe I am, too.’

He shook his head. ‘Neither of us is making sense,’ he said softly, and he stooped and touched her lightly on the lips. It was a feather touch. It was like a touch of farewell.

‘Enough. This is crazy. It’s dreams talking, not reality. Goodnight, Erin,’ he whispered. ‘Go to sleep. In the morning we’ll be sane again.’

‘But I won’t be sane tomorrow,’ she muttered rebelliously under her breath as he returned to his makeshift bed. ‘I’m sane now. I’m feeling like I’ve been insane all my life and I’ve just woken up. I’m feeling like it’s time to come home.’

She didn’t say it out loud, but she meant it. Somehow she just had to convince Dom…

That love worked?

She had to convince Dom that what she felt was for ever.

She hardly slept. When the phone went at six it didn’t get the chance to ring a second time before Erin was out in the hall to answer it.

There were still firemen in the house. One of the men—the fire-chief, Graham—had started down the stairs to answer it. He stopped when he saw her. She smiled, waved the receiver at him, and pulled the sitting-room door closed so as not to wake Dom and the boys.

‘Doc?’ On the end of the line, a man’s voice sounded frantic. The terror of last night kicked in again. Just because last night’s
terror was gone, it didn’t mean the world was a safe place for everyone.

‘I’m a doctor,’ she said, smoothly professional. ‘How can I help?’

‘But the doc—’

‘We had a house fire last night,’ she said, trying to sound like it was no drama. ‘Dr Dom’s taken up with his kids. I’m the doctor on call. Will you allow me to help you instead?’

There was a pause. Then a shattering sob. ‘I’ve just woken up,’ he managed. ‘I think my wife’s dead.’

It took all of two seconds to decide someone needed to go, and that someone should be her.

This was Dom’s patient. In theory she should wake him. But she glanced back into the living room and all three boys were sleeping like the dead.

Martin had snuggled next to Dom during the night. Dom had his arm across the little boy’s shoulders. The sight made her suddenly blink away tears.

She was almost…jealous. It was dumb, but there it was. These guys were a family, and she wanted to be a part of it.

At least she could give them this time. Which meant this was her call.

Quietly she asked the questions she needed to know.

The lady had been suffering from advanced metastatic cancer. Dom had been looking after her at home. Yes, Dom had said she might die, but surely not so soon…

She covered the receiver and talked to Graham, who’d been watching with concern from the landing. ‘Is there someone who can take me to Hughie Matheson’s house?’

‘Sure thing. Is Enid dead, then? We thought it might be soon.’

So the town was expecting this death. More and more, she knew this was something she could deal with. Yes, it’d be better for Hughie if Dom was able to come, but right now triage said those little boys needed him more.

She’d stowed her clothes in the downstairs bathroom so she could have privacy when she dressed. That meant she didn’t need to go back into the living room. Two minutes later she was dressed in jeans and a thick sweater—and Dom’s boots again—and Graham was ushering her out of the house.

‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said, stowing Dom’s medical bag into the back of his truck. ‘Doc’s driving himself into the ground. You don’t want to move here permanently, do you?’

‘I might,’ she said, and he came close to tripping over his feet as he climbed into the truck.

‘You’re kidding.’

‘Maybe I’m not,’ she said cautiously. But the idea was taking solid form.

Dom had said flatly it was impossible. Okay, living in the same house was impossible—she conceded that. But what he was doing with the kids was so worthwhile. If she could share his medical load…

‘Everyone says you need two doctors.’

‘We need half a dozen,’ Graham told her. ‘We’ve been advertising for ever.’

‘So if I were to stay…’

‘You’d never move in with him,’ Graham breathed.

‘I…No.’ Dom had said they couldn’t work together because of this ‘thing’ between them. But maybe they could. If they stayed apart.

Apart for as long as he wanted.

‘I reckon our Tansy’d have something to say about that,’ Graham said, grinning. ‘But that means you’d be needing somewhere to live. What about old Doc’s place?’

Whoa. Things were suddenly moving really fast, even for her newly formed resolutions.

The dawn light was just starting to edge over the horizon. Their truck was headed out of town on a bumpy road. Around them were open paddocks full of sleepy sheep.

How could she move here?

But Graham wasn’t treating the suggestion as silly.

‘Where’s…old Doc’s place?’ she ventured.

‘How about I take you there after we finish at Hughie’s?’ Graham said, warming to his theme. ‘It’s a bachelor pad—a tiny house attached to the building that used to be the hospital. The government closed the hospital when old Doc died. This doc says he can’t open it again—he can’t have inpatients without back-up. But old Doc’s place is owned by the town and it’s for medical staff. That’d mean you. Hell, with two doctors we might be able to open the hospital again. What d’yer reckon?’

‘I reckon I need to think about it,’ she said cautiously. ‘I need to talk to Dom.’

‘What’s this got to do with Dom?’ Graham said easily, chuckling. ‘In my other life I run the local hotel. I’m head of the chamber of commerce, plus I’m shire president. If there’s the possibility of an extra doctor for this place, I’m not letting you go. Consider yourself hired.’

Enid Matheson was indeed dead, peacefully in her own bed, dying in her sleep with her husband beside her.

‘There’s not a lot of women lucky enough to have this as their farewell,’ Erin said gently as she checked all vital signs. Then, just as gently, she touched the lady’s face in the gesture of farewell she always used. Working in Emergency in a big city hospital meant most of her farewells didn’t seem as right as this one. Enid had been in her eighties. There were photographs all over the house—Enid and Hughie, with kids, dogs, grandkids, ribbons for prize bulls, certificates for prize fruit cakes…The house was a cosy, well-loved testament to a woman who had known how to make a home.

Erin thought fleetingly back to her parents’ home, to the super-clean granite and stucco architectural statement her parents worked so hard over—and she was aware of a stab of envy.

Then she thought of the bikes and pogo stick and general chaos in Dom’s yard and felt a stab of something else. The same but different.

But now wasn’t about her, she thought as she finished her examination. Hughie was sitting at the kitchen table, his head in his hands, silently weeping.

She put on the kettle and found two mugs. Outside Graham would be waiting but he’d said, ‘You’re not to worry—there’s others taking care of things back at Dom’s place and I have all the time in the world. Hughie’ll need you. I’ll wait for as long as you need.’

So she took him at his word. In a while she’d do the official stuff—fill in the death certificate, organise an undertaker, ask Hughie who she should call.

But if he’d desperately wanted his family to be with him he’d have called them by now. It seemed he wanted a little time first, before the business of dealing with death began. Thanks to Graham, she could give it to him.

‘Tell me about Enid,’ she said softly, as she put a mug of hot, sweet tea in front of him. ‘This house is lovely. I’m guessing she’s been a wonderful woman.’

‘She is,’ the old farmer said brokenly, and looked through into the bedroom. ‘She was.’ He shook his head. ‘You…you really want to hear about her?’

It was a plea, pure and simple.

‘Yes, I do,’ Erin said strongly, and surprised herself by the truth of what she’d said.

This was a facet of medicine she’d never thought about. Trained and working in city hospitals she’d never been in the position where…

Where patients could be friends, she thought suddenly, with a flash of insight. This Easter was really changing her perspective.

Up until now she’d thought that Dom was a self-sacrificing hero. Now, as she sat in front of the ancient kitchen stove and
shared a second and then a third cup of tea and heard about Enid from the time she and Hughie had first met, she thought, No, it worked both ways.

She could do this. What’s more, she
wanted
to do this.

‘Doc’s been great,’ Hughie said, and she had to haul herself out of her own thoughts and back to him.

‘He’s looked after Enid well?’

‘When we knew the cancer had spread, our kids said we should put her in a hospice. But Doc said if she wanted to stay home then stay home she would, and he’s moved heaven and earth to keep her here. He’s been here nearly every day. He brings those kids with him—I take ’em for a ride on the tractor while he looks after Enid. You know, she’s hardly had pain at all. The minute there’s pain you ring me, he says, and we do…we did…and he’d be here. He’s one in a million. But he works too hard.’

‘I know that,’ she said. ‘I’m thinking of helping him.’

The old farmer’s gaze lifted from the dregs of his tea. His eyes were red-rimmed from weeping but he looked at her now—he really looked.

‘That’d be great,’ he said simply. ‘You’re such a one as he is. I can see it sticking out a country mile. And now…’ He took a deep breath.

‘And now?’

‘It’s time to call the kids,’ he said. ‘It’s time to call the church and the funeral chaps. Thank you for giving me this time, miss. I’ve appreciated it more than you can say.’

‘You want me to make the calls for you?’

‘If you would,’ he said with dignity. ‘I’ll sit with Enid until they come.’