From Duty to Daddy (12 page)

Afterwards Charlie usually fell back into such a deep sleep it was as though she was unconscious, and he’d return to holding her. He loved her more and more every day. Falling asleep and missing a single moment of Charlie in his arms was not possible. Time was precious—and running out fast.

His ticket for his flight out of Auckland on Saturday night was tucked out of sight in a pocket of his pack but hiding it hadn’t changed the fact. He was leaving. Going back to the States. And the army. Walking away from this wonderful, gutsy woman. Leaving his daughter behind because this was the best place for her. The days were jerking along, sometimes whizzing by, sometimes crawling so slowly he had to keep checking his watch to make sure he hadn’t got the time wrong.

The slow times were when Charlie wasn’t with him. At times he resented her patients and then hated himself for that selfish emotion. She was doing one hell of a balancing act, juggling Aimee’s needs, her patients’ requirements, her father and him. All while she was so goddamned exhausted. Yet every night she went to bed with a wicked gleam in those deep blue eyes. Every morning she woke up with enthusiasm and laughter on her lips.

No doubt about it. He would miss her like crazy. So much for coming and working her out of his system. She’d managed to completely infiltrate every cell of his body. She would never leave him in peace now. Even when he was halfway round the world in some alien place, putting broken soldiers back together in the makeshift hospitals they used.

Charlie would be his guardian angel, there to escape to in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep for thinking about the next day’s duties.

Maybe that was a load of crap and he just had to accept he loved her but wasn’t going to do a damned thing about it for fear of hurting her.

* * *

Saturday. Charlie stared at the dent left by Marshall’s head on the pillow beside hers. He’d made love to her as the sun had come up. Tender, yet gripping love that had spoken of the things he couldn’t say to her. He did care about her, maybe came close to loving her. She’d felt that in his touches, his kisses, the times they’d spent talking, or when they’d just sat watching their daughter.

He was leaving her.

When he’d climbed out of bed to go for a run there had been tears in his eyes. She’d reached for him but he’d avoided her outstretched fingers. ‘If I get back into bed with you, chances are I’ll never leave.’

Yeah, well, what was wrong with that? Her heart squeezed with need as he slipped out of the room. Honest to a fault, he’d never hidden the fact he couldn’t stay. Tears slid from the corners of her eyes and tracked down to her ears, on further to soak into her pillow. She let them come, though she should be fighting them. She’d allow herself this one moment of self-pity then she’d get up and go on with her life.

But first she had to get through the remainder of the day until Marshall hopped into his rental vehicle and drove away. Smudging tears across her face, she sat up. There were two ways to do this. She could go around with a dark heart all day and make everyone miserable, and probably make Marshall glad to be escaping.

Or they could celebrate the fact they’d found each other again and that Aimee now had her father in her life, albeit mostly via the ether.

She tossed the sheet off and her feet hit the floor. Pulling a drawer open, she chose a top with shoestring straps in a sky-blue colour that highlighted her eyes. From her wardrobe she took a short denim skirt that emphasised her slim legs and hugged the curves of her backside. A black G-string and a very lacy push-up bra went onto the bed beside the other clothes. Marshall might not get to see the underwear but she’d feel more feminine for wearing it. And he’d certainly get an eyeful of what he was leaving behind when she waltzed out to the kitchen dressed in that skirt and top. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

She got the eyeful bit right. Marshall was leaning against the bench, pouring water down his gasping throat, when she hit the kitchen nearly an hour later, her hair washed and styled, her face lightly made up. He spluttered water down the front of his tee shirt and his eyes bugged out. Coughing and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared at her.

Then his mouth lifted into a grin and his eyes filled with a wicked gleam. ‘Hey, Charlie, you look fabulous. You’ve gone all out this morning.’

So he’d caught onto her ploy. Good. At least he’d remember her as a sexy woman and not just a tired mother and doctor. ‘Thought we’d have the full works this morning. A brunch rather than breakfast. Bacon, eggs, sausages, mushrooms, tomatoes.’

Dad walked in as she was talking. ‘We could pop a bottle of bubbles, too. There’s one in the other fridge.’

She wasn’t celebrating Marshall leaving. But, then again, she was going all out to make a lasting memory. ‘Great idea, Dad. I’ll chop up the peaches, apricots, strawberries and raspberries I got at the roadside stall yesterday for a fruit salad.’

Marshall continued leaning against the bench. His legs not capable of holding him up any more? Had she finally knocked the stuffing out of him? He did look a bit stunned. Had expected her to stand around sniffling all day, had he? She had news for him. She wasn’t going to show him how much this hurt. That would come later, in the middle of the night when he filled her head and prevented her from sleeping.

Nudging Marshall in the waist, she reached for the kettle. ‘Out of the way, big boy. I’ve got heaps to do and I can’t start without that first cup of tea inside me.’

His legs did work. Just. He stumbled sideways, leaned against the stove. ‘Ah, right. What can I do to help with this banquet?’

Dad beat her to answering. ‘Get out of those shorts and shirt first. Then there’s Aimee to see to. Later you can help me cook this mountain of food on the barbecue.’ His voice went up a notch and he looked away, but not before she saw the distress in his eyes.

She nearly canned the whole idea right then. They might be fooling themselves they were going to have a blast today, but everyone was hurting. But as she opened her mouth, Marshall spoke.

‘Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a plan. Thanks, both of you.’ And he disappeared quick-smart out of the room.

Charlie stared after him until Dad draped an arm over her shoulders. ‘He’s no happier than you, my girl.’

‘So why go?’

‘He belongs to the army. Not us.’ His hand squeezed her arm gently before he stepped away.

Dad’s understanding got in the way of her determination not to let her emotions go on the rampage. Sniffing hard, she made the tea, squeezing the teabag until it nearly split, stirring in the milk until liquid spun over the side of the mug. Sniff, sniff. Clang. The teaspoon hit the bottom of the sink.

‘Mummy, I got up.’ Aimee wrapped her arms around Charlie’s knees.

‘Hey.’ Reaching down, she lifted up her baby. ‘How did you get up all by yourself? Bet Daddy helped you.’

‘I caught her climbing out of the cot.’ Marshall grinned from the doorway, his eyes full of pride. ‘You’re going to have to put her in a bed any day now, little monkey that she is.’

Hugging Aimee tightly, Charlie managed a smile for him. ‘Wonder where she gets that from.’

‘Don’t look at me. No monkeys in my family. Until now.’ And once again he headed away, this time hopefully going to the bathroom.

* * *

Once again Marshall found himself clearing up after the barbecue. It had become his job since he’d arrived. It was almost as if, by having allocated jobs, it meant he had a place in this family. Something new for him. Different from being ordered to do something in the army. Or in his parents’ house. This was about sharing the chores and doing things for those he cared about. And who cared about him.

Charlie was putting Aimee down for her afternoon nap. He’d held his girl on his knees throughout brunch, had kicked a ball around the yard with her afterwards, with Charlie egging them on from the sidelines, and he’d kissed her goodbye. His heart had come near to breaking then. But going away was the right thing to do. One day Aimee—and Charlie—would thank him for this. One day they’d understand. He hoped. Because right now he sure as hell didn’t.

One-thirty. Nearly time to hit the road. Brendon had gone into his shed a few minutes ago. He’d go and see the guy, try to let him know how much he meant to him.

Brendon stood at his workbench, viciously sandpapering a wooden table. Marshall wondered if the older man was mentally attacking him as he worked.

Clearing his throat, he spoke above the rasping sound of Brendon’s work. ‘I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Especially for the way you’ve welcomed me into your home.’

The sanding continued as the fingers gripping the sanding block whitened. ‘You’re welcome. Any time.’

In other words, he was meant to come back. Swallowing the sour taste in his mouth, he continued. ‘I truly appreciate that.’ Not that he’d be back in a hurry. He’d decided that would only complicate things and give Charlie reason to hope for more from him.

The sanding block clunked down on the bench and Brendon clapped the dust off his hands. ‘Right.’ He glanced around the shed’s interior, his gaze finally settling on a small catamaran stashed in a corner, cobwebs attaching the yacht to the wall. ‘I caught her struggling to haul that outside a couple of months ago, adamant she was going sailing.’

‘It’s chained to a peg in the floor.’ He’d known they’d end up talking about Charlie. Unavoidable.

‘Broke my heart to see her unable to do something that a couple of years ago was easier than falling off a bike for her.’ Brendon’s voice sounded hollow. ‘I chained the damned thing up so she couldn’t try again.’ His head rolled from side to side. ‘My girl used to be so strong.’

And you’re afraid she won’t ever regain that strength.

He wouldn’t even think about that. ‘I see her as very strong mentally. She never wavers. Always looking out for Aimee, her patients. Refuses to let the cancer set her back.’ If it dared to come back it was in for a hell of a battle from Charlie.

‘You are right, lad. She is strong. I only hope she’s strong
enough
. The next weeks are going to be hard for her.’

A perfect shot. Straight at his heart. Marshall winced. Couldn’t blame the man for putting his daughter’s case. ‘I have to go, Brendon. There is no other option.’

‘Keep moving? That the army way, lad? Or your way?’

‘It’s the only way I know how to live, how to be me.’ Except now that way of life seemed odd from where he stood.

From the doorway came, ‘That’s a copout.’ Charlie’s hands were firmly on her hips. ‘You fall back on that excuse for everything. You’ve been conditioned to think like that. Yes, it is the army way. No, you don’t have to live like that. You can make a life that suits you and get what you want from it.’

‘Maybe I have.’ The path of least resistance. Yeah, even he could see that. ‘But there is no getting away from the fact that I have to follow orders, which means going wherever I’m told.’ He could tell the army to stick the next contract due to be signed in a few weeks, but then what? Could he become a GP in a small town? He’d still be helping people, caring for their families.

Brendon slipped past Charlie and headed outside. No fond farewell, then. He couldn’t blame the guy. He was hurting his girl.

Charlie came inside and approached him, her eyes brimming with need, love and earnestness. ‘Well, here’s my way. I love you, Marshall. I love you with all my heart and then some. Have done since that first day in the ED when you teased me about my funny accent.’ She stepped close, rose up on her toes and kissed him hard on the mouth.

His arms rose almost of their own volition to wrap around her. Pushing his tongue between her lips, he tasted her mouth, felt his knees weaken. God, it would be so easy to stay. To pretend he didn’t have commitments elsewhere. To pretend it would all work out—that he’d be a great dad, a wonderful husband and turn into a settled doctor living in small-town New Zealand.

It took every last ounce of his strength to put Charlie aside. ‘Nothing’s going to change because of what you’ve revealed, Charlie. I still won’t be around for you.’

Her eyes glittered with anger. ‘Don’t you get it yet? Having you some of the time is better than never. Loving you means letting you be the person you are, not trying to change you into someone else, not tying you down in one place. I understand that would be the quickest way to turn our relationship sour.’

Tempting. So bloody tempting. To stop in one place occasionally. To have special time out with Charlie and Aimee, to be the partner and parent and still have his army career with the duty that was his rod.

So damned unfair on them. He could see it now. Aimee crying every time he left, begging him to stay one more night, to take her to school the next day. It would be him all over again. Except he’d be the one going away.

Air hissed through his teeth. ‘You deserve better than that. You can and should have the whole enchilada. So should Aimee. I’m going home, Charlie.’ Home? A cold, lonely barrack room. Home.

‘Sure.’ Her hurt blinked out at him, cutting him to the heart.

He continued relentlessly, trying to ignore the pain in her face that reflected what crunched inside him. ‘You need to find a good, kind man who’ll love and cherish you, who’ll come home to you at the end of the day and sit down with a glass of wine to talk about what you’ve done. A man who’ll take Aimee to school sports.’

The colour drained from Charlie’s cheeks at that reminder of what she’d wanted for him. He had to make her see he was right. ‘A man who’ll take you on vacation, be there to teach Aimee things. A man totally unlike me.’ His lungs were struggling to inhale. His blood had slowed to the point he was in danger of collapsing.

He wanted to haul her into his arms and tell her he’d made a mistake, that he didn’t mean a word of it and that he’d stay. Except he knew himself too well, knew he couldn’t. So he wasn’t finished. ‘Find yourself a man who’ll see you into old age, Charlie.’

Her voice sounded like it came through a gag. Her eyes leaked tears. But her shoulders were drawn back tight and her chin pointed at him. ‘You’re wrong, Marshall. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. What my heart needs is you as and when I can have you. Nothing more, nothing less.’