child, even when his mother had remarried someone more reasonable, he’d known he’d been expected to fade into the background.
Isolation kept him out of emotional drama. It was a defence. Maybe that’s why he and Miriam got on so well together—they instinctively respected personal space.
But he’d been at the same hospital for eight years now and lots of his colleagues no longer respected that space. Hence he’d decided that coming here was an option.
‘I...I’ll make Ruby’s bottle, shall I?’ Liselle quavered, and he looked at the slight seventeen-year-old who was obviously just as nervous as her brother.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said, and swung back the covers, dislodging Tip in the process, who cast him a look of reproach. Then the next thunderclap boomed and the dog was down under the covers with Blackie.
‘Maggie said you had to rest,’ Liselle said.
‘I’ll rest. I’ll get the bottle first.’
‘And then you’ll come back to us?’
To us. To a bed that was big but was now decidedly crowded. Two kids, two dogs, one baby.
‘Yes,’ he said, goaded.
‘Maggie should be here,’ Christopher whispered.
‘Maggie wouldn’t fit,’ he retorted. ‘You lie still and don’t move that leg.’ And then he went to fill his niece’s very vocally broadcast requirements.
* * *
Maggie was heading home, feeling guilty.
So what was new? She’d felt guilty all her life. From the time her mother had made it very clear she needed her, anything Maggie had ever wanted to do for herself had been wasted time.
Now...she’d sort of wanted to stay in the big house and play with one baby and watch one guy bond with that baby, but she’d had no choice but to head up the valley to see Roy Macy. His leg was a mess but there was no way he’d come to her. His neighbour would have driven him but she knew exactly how he’d respond. ‘No, don’t fuss, leave it be.’
Left alone it’d turn into a septic mess, so good old Maggie had headed out into the storm and fixed it.
And left Blake with her responsibilities.
No. Ruby was his responsibility.
Why did it feel like she was hers?
Because she was used to feeling guilty. She’d sort of wanted to stay—but she’d felt guilty about leaving.
‘I should have loaded Christopher into the car with me,’ she said out loud. ‘Just so I wouldn’t feel like this.’
But she still would have. Guilt was unavoidable. Baby Ruby had crept round her heart like a small, needful worm and no matter how much she told herself she was nothing to do with her, she knew it wasn’t true.
‘It’s only until the river level drops,’ she told herself, looking bleakly out into the driving rain. ‘Then they’re out of here. I don’t know what he’ll do with Ruby, but it’s not my problem. Not My Problem. Blake Samford is on his own. Just let the rain stop. Just let the river drop before I fall any deeper for one baby...’
And for the man who went with her?
‘I’m not attached to Blake,’ she said, astonished at the places her thoughts were taking her. ‘As if. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but as if I have time...’
Time to notice how gorgeous he was?
She’d noticed.
She did not have time. She did not have the inclination.
Liar. Of course she had the inclination, only what chance was there ever for a love life for her when there were still four kids almost totally dependent on her?
‘You’ll start singing sad love songs next,’ she told herself dryly. ‘It’s just the way things are. Get over it. And stop thinking of Blake Samford’s body. Blake Samford’s smile. Blake Samford’s hands as he cradles his tiny niece...’
Whoa.
‘The sooner the river drops the better for all concerned,’ she muttered, and then she paused.
The thunder had been booming almost continuously since she’d left home and it was still booming, but over the noise she could hear...something else.
It was a roar, building from maybe imagined to real, growing more real by the
Isolation kept him out of emotional drama. It was a defence. Maybe that’s why he and Miriam got on so well together—they instinctively respected personal space.
But he’d been at the same hospital for eight years now and lots of his colleagues no longer respected that space. Hence he’d decided that coming here was an option.
‘I...I’ll make Ruby’s bottle, shall I?’ Liselle quavered, and he looked at the slight seventeen-year-old who was obviously just as nervous as her brother.
‘I’ll get it,’ he said, and swung back the covers, dislodging Tip in the process, who cast him a look of reproach. Then the next thunderclap boomed and the dog was down under the covers with Blackie.
‘Maggie said you had to rest,’ Liselle said.
‘I’ll rest. I’ll get the bottle first.’
‘And then you’ll come back to us?’
To us. To a bed that was big but was now decidedly crowded. Two kids, two dogs, one baby.
‘Yes,’ he said, goaded.
‘Maggie should be here,’ Christopher whispered.
‘Maggie wouldn’t fit,’ he retorted. ‘You lie still and don’t move that leg.’ And then he went to fill his niece’s very vocally broadcast requirements.
* * *
Maggie was heading home, feeling guilty.
So what was new? She’d felt guilty all her life. From the time her mother had made it very clear she needed her, anything Maggie had ever wanted to do for herself had been wasted time.
Now...she’d sort of wanted to stay in the big house and play with one baby and watch one guy bond with that baby, but she’d had no choice but to head up the valley to see Roy Macy. His leg was a mess but there was no way he’d come to her. His neighbour would have driven him but she knew exactly how he’d respond. ‘No, don’t fuss, leave it be.’
Left alone it’d turn into a septic mess, so good old Maggie had headed out into the storm and fixed it.
And left Blake with her responsibilities.
No. Ruby was his responsibility.
Why did it feel like she was hers?
Because she was used to feeling guilty. She’d sort of wanted to stay—but she’d felt guilty about leaving.
‘I should have loaded Christopher into the car with me,’ she said out loud. ‘Just so I wouldn’t feel like this.’
But she still would have. Guilt was unavoidable. Baby Ruby had crept round her heart like a small, needful worm and no matter how much she told herself she was nothing to do with her, she knew it wasn’t true.
‘It’s only until the river level drops,’ she told herself, looking bleakly out into the driving rain. ‘Then they’re out of here. I don’t know what he’ll do with Ruby, but it’s not my problem. Not My Problem. Blake Samford is on his own. Just let the rain stop. Just let the river drop before I fall any deeper for one baby...’
And for the man who went with her?
‘I’m not attached to Blake,’ she said, astonished at the places her thoughts were taking her. ‘As if. Yes, he’s gorgeous, but as if I have time...’
Time to notice how gorgeous he was?
She’d noticed.
She did not have time. She did not have the inclination.
Liar. Of course she had the inclination, only what chance was there ever for a love life for her when there were still four kids almost totally dependent on her?
‘You’ll start singing sad love songs next,’ she told herself dryly. ‘It’s just the way things are. Get over it. And stop thinking of Blake Samford’s body. Blake Samford’s smile. Blake Samford’s hands as he cradles his tiny niece...’
Whoa.
‘The sooner the river drops the better for all concerned,’ she muttered, and then she paused.
The thunder had been booming almost continuously since she’d left home and it was still booming, but over the noise she could hear...something else.
It was a roar, building from maybe imagined to real, growing more real by the
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