From Duty to Daddy (8 page)

‘She and Toby have taken the boys to Phuket for two weeks. I think they’re due home at the end of the week.’

‘I’ll leave a message on her phone that hopefully won’t cause alarm.’ What were the chances of that? She had to make Keisha aware she needed to get in touch fairly quickly. The radiology centre had probably left a message recalling Keisha for further X-rays. There wasn’t any point in disrupting the family’s holiday, though. One week wouldn’t make any difference and they might as well make the most of their fun time because the next few weeks were going to be tough while Keisha underwent tests and waited for results.

Molly told her, ‘Your first patient’s here.’

Charlie dealt with prescription renewals, a sprained ankle and a mildly depressed teen before Mrs Withers slipped into her room, complaining of chest pains. With Gemma’s help Charlie ran tests and promptly called an ambulance to take their patient to hospital.

Next six-year-old Josh Donaldson bounced in, every bit of exposed skin covered with what looked like hives. Scratching like mad at his arms, he grizzled, ‘I don’t like these bumps. They sting and make me stay awake at night.’

‘I don’t blame you for not liking them.’ Charlie studied his red, puffy skin. ‘What did he have to eat before these started appearing?’ she asked his mother, Vicki.

His mum looked distressed at the thought she’d fed her son something he might be allergic to. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary. Chicken sandwiches, ice cream and peaches. He’s never shown a reaction to any food before.’

Charlie smiled across at Vicki. ‘Being a mother doesn’t get any easier, does it? Every time I think I’m making headway with Aimee she tosses up something different for me to deal with.’ So far health issues hadn’t been a problem, but she crossed her fingers anyway. ‘She’s started climbing everything in sight.’ Which wasn’t good when there was a road outside the front gate.

‘I know exactly what you mean. It’s like a minefield. I thought that once Josh was old enough to go to school he wouldn’t be having any problems. Shows how much I know.’ Vicki ran her hand lovingly over her son’s head.

Charlie turned to the boy. ‘Josh, where were you playing yesterday?’

‘Dad took us to the river for a swim.’ Scratch, scratch. ‘I saw an eel and my sister cried when she slipped on the rocks.’ He grinned, with no sympathy for little Karla whatsoever.

‘No sand flies? Bees? Wasps?’ When the boy shook his head she continued, ‘I’ll arrange for an allergy test to be done by one of our nurses. It will take about an hour. And I’ll give you some cream to take the itch and heat out of those bumps.’

Josh asked, ‘Can Gemma do it? I like her best.’

‘I’m sure she can.’

Vicki and Josh disappeared back to Reception to make an appointment with Gemma.

Charlie went in search of her next patient and bumped into her father in the hall. ‘Why are you here so early?’

His eyes lit up. ‘I’ve been replaced at home. My breakfast was waiting when I came out of my room. Aimee was in her highchair, firing pieces of toast around the kitchen and quite happy to be waited on by Marshall, who looked as though being out on a recce with his troop would be a whole lot easier than dealing with an eighteen-month-old.’

She chuckled. ‘Wish I’d been a fly on the wall.’

‘Can’t you at least pretend to feel sorry for him?’

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. ‘Nope. It’s good for him.’

‘You’re a hard woman, Charlotte Lang.’

‘Wonder where I learned that?’ She walked into the waiting room and looked around the patients. ‘Kathy, come on through.’

By eleven Charlie was more than ready for a coffee and biscuit. As her previous patient disappeared Gemma stepped through the door, her eyes wide and bulging.

‘I thought the Greeks had it sussed when it came to male gods. But I’m telling you, there’s a hunk out in Reception, holding Aimee, who puts all those statues to shame.’

And that’s with his clothes on. Charlie’s stomach tightened as she smiled. ‘Am I right in thinking he might be about six-three, broad shoulders tapering down to slim hips, buzz-cut hairstyle and a face to get lost in?’

‘That’s the one. Aimee’s plastered all over him as though she’s never going to let him go.’

Charlie’s smile slipped. That could be a problem. ‘I’d better go and rescue her. Or should that be him?’

Gemma laughed. ‘Charlie, you’ve been hiding out on me. I know you said Aimee’s dad was one of a kind, but I never got an inkling just how wow he really is.’

‘Dribbling doesn’t suit you.’ Running a hand over her hair, she slipped around her desk, excitement fizzing along her veins. It hadn’t been three hours since she’d last seen Marshall but it was impossible to deny the need crawling through her. To see him, kiss him, touch him. Oops. Hold on. She was at work.

‘Hey, did Marshall come right out and say he was Aimee’s father? To everyone?’

Gemma stood blocking the doorway, a wide smile on her face. ‘Yes, he did. Looked quite pleased with himself, too. He’s gone through to the kitchen with Brendon to meet everyone. Your man seems to be getting on well with your dad.’

Her man? If only. ‘They do get on, but I think Dad’s working on buttering him up for a long-term plan that will work for both Aimee and me.’

‘Sounds like Brendon, always thinking ahead.’

‘That reminds me. Dad thinks you’re pretty good, too. I just wanted to say if you’re interested in getting close to him, go for it. I heartily approve.’ Good-natured, sweet-hearted, happy-go-lucky Gemma would be perfect for Dad.

Gemma. Someone she owed so much to. She’d spent hours sitting with her as she’d puked her stomach dry after rounds of chemo. It was Gemma who’d gone shopping for wigs with her, and had laughed until she’d cried when a wig had got whipped off her head as she’d ducked under a low-hanging branch one day. Gemma had held her hand and listened to all her fears for Aimee and Dad. Gemma, fifteen years older than her and yet the best friend she’d ever had.

Gemma’s hug enveloped her. ‘Didn’t think you’d mind. Now, go and claim that hunk out in the kitchen before one of the other females in this building hustles him away.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

E
ARLY
T
UESDAY
MORNING
Charlie got dressed in her running gear. ‘I can’t believe how much my muscles ache,’ she grumbled as she jogged beside Marshall. ‘It’s going to take weeks to get fit.’

‘Toughen up.’ He nudged her gently and when she flipped her head up he was grinning at her.

‘Easy for you to say.’ She glanced at his long legs, which were eating up the metres no problem at all. One stride of his equalled almost two of hers. ‘I’ve got an idea. Tomorrow I’ll ride my bike while you run. Then we’ll see who’s fastest.’

His laughter made her happy and caused him to lose his breathing pattern. She laughed in return when he had to stop to sort his lungs out and she got a little way ahead. Not for long, though.

‘Going my way?’ He waved as he raced past.

Her lungs were hurting and her legs protesting. Wishing she could take up the challenge, she wheezed out, ‘I’m heading home. See you later.’

He turned and ran backwards for a moment. ‘I’ll bring lunch in to work.’

‘We’ll go down to the lake.’

* * *

A little after midday Charlie swallowed a mouthful of panini filled with salad and chicken and asked Marshall, ‘What did you find to talk about to the other doctors all afternoon yesterday?’

‘Medical stuff. You’d be surprised what other doctors want to know about the trauma cases I deal with out in the field.’ Marshall chewed a blade of grass and gazed out over the sparkling wavelets the light breeze was churning up on the lake. ‘I don’t give a lot of detail but I guess it seems exciting compared to the routine of a clinic. What they don’t get is that there are days I’d happily swap places. At least most of your patients won’t have lost a limb or have holes blasted in their torsos by random gunfire.’

Charlie put her food aside, suddenly not hungry. ‘How do you deal with that all the time?’ Marshall rarely talked about his medical duties.

‘I try to think about the guys I’m helping and put the rest aside.’

‘Like that works.’ Disappointment at being fobbed off grabbed at her. He’d finally said something personal and then backed away the moment she’d picked up on it.

He turned a grim face to her. ‘Not a bit.’

She gasped at the raw pain in his eyes. ‘Marshall?’ she whispered, as she wrapped her hand around his much larger one. Small tremors shook him. His skin felt clammy and cold. His chest rose and fell on short breaths.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he croaked.

‘Yeah, it does.’ She looked around at Aimee, playing happily with the stones at the edge of the bank. ‘Tell me,’ she said.

His hand turned to cover hers, his grip intense. ‘You remember Rod? My best buddy?’ When she nodded he continued in a low voice, ‘Two months after we left Hawaii we were in Afghanistan.’ His Adam’s apple bobbed. ‘A plane carrying half my troop crashed at the end of the runway. Rod didn’t make it. I tried everything I could to save him. Finally put him on the casualty flight out to Germany. I never saw him again.’

What could she say? Nothing that would help. She knew how hard people tried to make you feel better with words when your world had imploded. Words that usually just didn’t work, didn’t soothe or cure. She tightened her hold on his hand and leaned her head against his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Me, too.’ His tongue slicked across his bottom lip. ‘The worst of it? He knew he’d be dead before he got home so he wanted to stay on base with me. But I insisted he went, hoping beyond belief that he’d somehow make it to see his wife and boys. Who knows? Maybe I could’ve saved him. Or at least held his hand and talked with him.’ His voice trailed off. His eyes were focused somewhere thousands of kilometres away, seeing something she’d never see.

‘You’re blaming yourself for something you couldn’t prevent.’

‘I mightn’t have been flying that damned plane but I should’ve been able to hold him together long enough to get to a major hospital.’

‘In another country.’

‘It’s why I became a doctor. To save people.’ His voice sounded clogged with tears.

‘You’re the man who once told me we can’t save them all.’ Charlie rubbed her fingers back and forth across his hand.

‘I should’ve been able to save my closest friend.’

‘We can’t save them all,’ she repeated quietly yet firmly. He mustn’t go on blaming himself. This could destroy him if he let it. Lifting her head, she kissed his neck, his cheek, his lips.

Marshall gripped Charlie’s hand, held on. Her lips were soft, sweet, caring. Touching him deep inside somewhere around his heart. Warming the cold place locked in there, no matter how many months had gone by since Rod had been loaded onto that flight.

Her touch was totally in contrast to the harsh reality of his life, of what he’d told her. Why the hell had he spilled his guts? It was the last thing he should be saying. He didn’t do heart-to-heart stuff. Never had, never would. Except that’s exactly what he’d just done.

A stone banged against his knee and rolled down his leg to his foot. Aimee stood on his other side, holding out her empty hand, grinning that cute grin that got to him every time. ‘Hey, my girl, come here.’ Wrapping his free arm around her, he tucked his daughter in against his side. Aimee on one side, Charlie on the other. The perfect picture, a family portrait. Alien. And the reason he had to keep surviving in the next place the army posted him to. And the next. And the next.

He’d be gone by the end of next week and he didn’t have a clue when he’d be able to get to Taupo again. Charlie would be hurt. But not half as much as she would be if she thought they had a future together and then he got himself killed. He’d do what he could for Aimee, mostly the small stuff. But a full-on, day-by-day commitment? Not likely. These two were better off without him.

* * *

Charlie didn’t sleep much that night. Tossing and turning, throwing the bedcovers off because she was too hot, pulling them back when the sweat on her skin chilled. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the anguish on Marshall’s face, heard the pain in his voice as he’d talked about Rod.

Used to him always laughing and joking, she’d been shocked that he’d opened up at all. But she’d also been grateful because it meant they might be able to forge a deeper friendship, something strong enough to carry them through the months and years ahead.

Forget that she loved him. Yeah, right. Like how? Okay, her love wasn’t going to vaporise or leave her in peace, but she had to take her time with that. First things first. Give Marshall the space to fall in love with his daughter. Because no matter that her own heart was his, Aimee had to take precedence.

The morning finally dawned, rays of sun sneaking around the edges of her blinds just after five. Long before Aimee cried out or the alarm beeped, she crawled out of bed. A cool shower might wake her up and refresh her head, which felt full of cotton wool. Sodden, heavy cotton wool.

‘Hey, you look like something the dog buried.’ Marshall stood outside his bedroom door, watching as she shuffled along the hall yawning so hard her jaw ached. ‘Didn’t sleep?’

Shaking her head, she pushed the bathroom door wide. ‘Too hot.’

Those all-seeing eyes bored into her, filled with concern. ‘You’re not worrying about anything, are you, Charlie?’

Only how I’m going to get through the day on very little shut-eye, how Aimee will react when you leave us, how I’ll cope if you don’t stay in touch. ‘Thinking about one of my patients.’

She lied because now wasn’t the time to tell him the truth. He would hate it if she put pressure on him, asked him exactly what he thought he might do about seeing Aimee occasionally. Or more often. Then there was the biggie. Would he sign papers accepting responsibility for Aimee in the worst-case scenario? Hopefully the untruth wasn’t glittering out at him from her tired eyes. She’d have looked away but it was as though his gaze had locked onto hers, keeping her in place.

Annoyance flickered over his face. ‘Really?’

Had he guessed she’d fibbed? Or did he want her to have been worried about the situation after all? Guilt gripped her. Everything seemed too hard this early in the day. She needed a shower, a mug of tea and something to dull the pounding behind her eyes.

‘Going for a run?’ she asked, in a vain attempt to move him away, to stop that questioning look searing her.

‘Shortly. You joining me?’

‘I should, I know, but...’ She didn’t have the energy. Plain and simple.

‘Go have a shower and I’ll put the kettle on for you before I go. You do look exhausted.’

His thoughtfulness only ramped up her guilt. He mightn’t know for sure why she got so tired but he was prepared to help her out. ‘Thank you.’

As she stripped off her nightgown and waited for the water to warm, she stared in the mirror, trying to see what Marshall might see when he looked at her. Nothing like the happy doctor he’d had a short fling with, that’s for sure. Did he wonder where that woman had gone? He’d probably put the dark shadows staining her upper cheeks and the short and curly, easy-to-handle hair all down to motherhood.

Soaping the night’s sweat off her skin, she smiled despite the weariness dragging at her muscles. Marshall looked as delectable as ever, as sexy as any hot-blooded woman could imagine. During the night, whenever she woke up, her thoughts immediately went to him, sleeping three rooms down from her.

The temptation to go and slip into bed with him was huge, but she managed to hold onto a thread of reason, knowing it was the wrong thing to do at this stage. They’d never get to talk and plan for the future if they went back to that steamy sex life that had produced Aimee in the first place.

But how long would she be able to hold out? What would she do if Marshall made a serious pass at her? Her body warmed at the thought of it, an ache of need centring at the apex of her legs.

It isn’t going to happen, Charlie. It mustn’t.

Sluicing the soap from her belly her hands paused over her hysterectomy scar. No more babies. That hurt. Hurt even more now that Marshall had come back into the picture. She didn’t have the right to ask him to forego having more children.

Leaning her aching head against the glass wall of the shower, she fought the urge to have a damned good howl. Which only went to show how tired she was. She didn’t do tears, remember?

* * *

Marshall watched the bathroom door close behind Charlie. Her feet were dragging this morning. What was with all this tiredness? Motherhood and a demanding career were obviously taking their toll on her, but he still had the feeling he was missing something. Like what?

He filled the kettle, got out the cereal she liked, sliced up some fruit into a small bowl, and set everything at her place at the table. He enjoyed doing little things for her. Made him feel as though he was contributing to the family. His family. Whether he lived with Charlie or not, he now had a family of his own. Aimee Hunter-Lang was his family and by association so was Charlie.

Goddamn, Charlie had stunned him when she’d shown him Aimee’s birth certificate. His name had stood out. Hunter. Okay, Hunter-Lang, but he was more than happy with that. Thrilled, if the truth be known. He’d never planned on having kids. But he’d become a father without knowing it, without being hauled up to the line and made to decide, and, damn it—he liked it. That should surprise him, scare him away. But it didn’t. Unfortunately. Because he really needed to put space between himself and those two females dominating his mind, his time and just about everything he did at the moment.

It was time to start talking to Charlie. Really talking. Because he might like it that he was a dad but nothing had changed. He still had to go away, might not be back for up to a year, and then only for a few days at a time. And Charlie needed to understand that.

A loud cry erupted from down the hallway in the vicinity of Aimee’s room. ‘Coming, my girl.’ He grinned. His daughter didn’t do delicate, or shy, or quiet. Everything about her was full on. Just like her dad. Like her mum had been.

‘Morning, Marshall.’ Brendon stood outside Aimee’s room, looking from him to his granddaughter inside.

Guilt hit Marshall. Brendon probably did the morning routine with Aimee and since he’d arrived the guy hadn’t got a look-in. ‘I’ll go and make you a coffee.’

‘Don’t be silly, lad. Your daughter wants up.’ Brendon slapped his shoulder lightly as he passed him. ‘I’m over wet nappies.’

Nappies. ‘What’s wrong with calling them diapers?’ He grinned at this man who was so generous, not only with his home but with his heart.

He got an exaggerated eye-roll in reply.

Laughing, he went to swing Aimee out of the cot and kiss her on each cheek, blowing raspberries in between. The giggles she let rip were all the reward he required. Turning to head to the kitchen, he paused to scan the hundreds of photos covering one wall. Aimee, from the moment she’d been born to the present. Charlie had already put up one of him holding her.

‘I’ll add more of you soon.’ Charlie leaned in the doorway, a small smile lightening those heavy eyes.

She reached up to kiss Aimee. ‘Morning, sweetheart.’ Tickling her tummy got more giggles.

The breath stuck in Marshall’s throat. By the simple act of reaching out to her daughter Charlie had let go the front of her satin robe, exposing her cleavage and giving him a partial view of her beautiful breasts. Full, lush and damned tempting. His mouth dried. She might be tiny but she was perfectly endowed. He could remember the weight of her breasts in his hands, could hear the catch in her breath as he fingered her nipples, the groan escaping her lips as the desire built to an inferno inside her.

‘Mum, mum.’ Aimee kicked and wriggled, thankfully diverting his licentious thoughts back to more prosaic needs.

But her movements didn’t cool his racing blood or knock down the instant hard-on the sight of those breasts had fuelled. Now what? He couldn’t turn his back on Charlie, neither could he adjust his shorts to hide the bulge without drawing attention to himself.

The wriggling bundle in his arms was trying to get down. Bending, he placed Aimee carefully on the floor and said to Charlie, ‘Your breakfast is ready. The tea might be getting cold.’