The Midwife's Little Miracle (9 page)

T
HAT
Friday, when Montana had finished the first well-women’s clinic held at the hospital, Andy appeared.

He allowed himself the luxury of admiring her as she organised her desk.

Her hair was tied back in a shiny clasp and several dark wisps tickled her cheek. He wanted to brush them back with his fingers and make her see how good the two of them would be together.

Now that he’d come to realise how much Montana meant to him, he needed her to see it too.

‘Montana, a question?’ he said softly, not wanting to startle her, and Montana looked up at his voice. The unguarded, welcoming smile on her face gave him some hope at least.

She straightened and brushed the hair away from her cheek. ‘Hello, there, Dr Buchanan. Yes?’

He walked over and looked at the list of patients she’d seen that day. It was a long one. Obviously there were a fair proportion of the townswomen
who had avoided their yearly checks until Montana had arrived.

As he stood beside her he could just catch the faintest hint of the lavender soap she used. Going into the bathroom at the house was always a struggle after Montana had been in there because that scent left too vivid a picture in his mind to relax with.

She stretched her neck to look up at him and he was tempted to kiss those pouting lips she teased him with.

‘We’re to be formal, then, Sister Browne? And I was going to ask you something very informal.’

Her beautiful brows went up and he smiled and went on. ‘It’s your first clinic. Let’s celebrate at the only restaurant in town tonight for dinner. Just the two of us.’

‘Like a date?’ She was teasing him again. What the hell? It was better than nothing.

‘Not
like
a date.’ He paused and she tilted her head and he could see she’d missed the point. ‘As a real date. Dinner, dancing, table service. A date. Say yes.’

Montana blinked. ‘They have dancing?’

He smiled. ‘They have a romantic opera collection on CD and a handkerchief-sized dance floor.’

She looked away and he couldn’t catch the expression he’d wanted to see.

‘Have Louisa mind Dawn, do you mean?’ She turned back to him and he watched different emotions cross her face as she considered the logistics.

Why couldn’t she just say yes and work it out later?

Then she did. ‘I’d like that, Andy. If Louisa isn’t busy, it would be nice to get dressed up a little and have a meal out.’

‘With me.’ He clarified the situation because he needed her to get it.

‘With you.’ She smiled at him as the idea grew. Just like the pleasure that expanded in his own chest. It felt good to hear her say yes.

‘Yes, please.’ She said again. ‘What time?’

‘Say six-thirty for seven.’ Already he was planning. ‘We can have a leisurely meal, a few turns around the floor.’ He wanted to relive that feeling of Montana in his arms. ‘We’d still not be home too late for Dawn.’

Maybe walk along the lake afterwards and watch the submarine races, he thought, but didn’t add that.

This was such a good idea. Misty had suggested it and it sent the message he wanted to make. A date shifted the platonic colleague thing into a whole new area.

He hoped so because the last few weeks he’d been going quietly insane.

Montana was ready early because she’d learnt that babies tended to have last-minute moments of unusual interest and she didn’t want to keep Andy waiting.

Andy found her in the kitchen with Dawn at six-
fifteen, dressed and ready, and she blushed at the way his eyes lit up when he saw her.

She’d pampered herself in the bathroom and then spent extra time drying her hair so that it shone and bounced freely around her neck—a big change, as she rarely left her hair down.

Tonight it had seemed like the thing to do. Her apricot blouse left her shoulders bare and the floral skirt swirled when she twirled in her strappy sandals. All those things—and the way Andy looked at her—made her feel especially feminine tonight and it was a giddy feeling she wasn’t used to.

Dawn waved them goodbye, with a little help from Louisa, and they walked under the streetlights to the restaurant. The breeze from the lake seemed especially soft tonight.

Andy caught her hand and held it and she left her fingers there, warm and secure in his, and tried to ignore the flutter of tension that level of commitment left her with.

The Paragon, the only restaurant in Lyrebird Lake, was run by Angelo and Angelina, an eccentric Italian couple who supplemented the menu they loved to serve with a sideline pizza take-away.

In the main restaurant, to Montana’s surprise, the room was dim with dripping candles in basketed Chianti bottles and red-checked tablecloths.

Romantic Italian opera played softly in the background and she smiled at the memory of Andy’s forewarning.

The only other couple in the room were being served their meal with a voluble flourish as Montana and Andy arrived, and the little Italian looked torn between the two tasks.

‘We’ll seat ourselves, Angelo. No hurry, please,’ Andy said and ushered Montana to a secluded corner where a sheaf of long purple roses lay across the table.

He smiled and pulled her chair out then tilted his head towards the Italian.

‘Angelo likes to explain the meal when he serves it, and I didn’t want to spoil his fun.’

Montana lifted the roses before she sat down. Andy being thoughtful again? She inhaled the exquisite scent. ‘Did you send these in for me?’

‘From Clare’s garden. I picked them up earlier. I swear she has every colour you could imagine.’

Her brows drew together as a memory teased her. ‘I’m sure you mentioned a special meaning for purple roses before.’

‘Later,’ he said, and seated her with such care she felt pampered and revered, as if she were a movie star. Secretly she thought Andy could hold his own with anyone on the big screen so she had the right dinner partner.

She brushed her hand over the cutlery, as if the coldness of the silver would rid her head of silly thoughts. Or at least bring her back to earth.

The tantalising aroma of herbs and garlic and
mozzarella made Montana mouth water and she forgot about Andy’s reason for purple roses.

For the first time in months she realised how hungry she was. It was a classical Italian restaurant but there was nothing clichéd about the aroma of the food and she couldn’t wait to see the menu.

In fact, she hadn’t really been interested in what she’d eaten since Douglas had died. Maybe that was all a part of feeling so alive and vital tonight.

She smiled at Andy as he settled on the opposite side of the table. ‘Thank you for bringing me here.’

‘My pleasure, madam.’ He bowed and gave her one of those gorgeous hundred-watt smiles that made her whole body glow before he flicked his napkin onto his lap.

Montana settled back in her chair and sighed as she looked around. ‘This is wonderful, Andy. The food looks and smells authentic, and Angelo could be in any restaurant in Rome.’

They both looked across at the dapper Italian in his black shiny trousers, bow-tie and white apron. His hands gesticulated floridly as he explained intricate details to the other couple.

‘He’s a gem. Believe it or not, Angelo grew up around here. His parents immigrated many years ago and ran a huge property about fifty kilometres out of town.

‘Angelo travelled to Italy to study under a master chef in Rome. There he met Angelina, who is also
a chef. They had four sons in five years but came back when his parents needed help on the station.’

He looked fondly at the little Italian. ‘Now the boys run the station and Angelo and his wife can do what they love. Cook. Here he comes.’

Andy stood up and Angelo pumped Andy’s hand as if he’d never let it go.

‘Dr Andy, and your beautiful lady. Welcome to my Paragon.’

He put two menus down on the table and leaned towards Montana as if he had a secret to share. ‘He saved my life, this doctor. I would be dead but for him. But here I am and my beautiful wife and I will prepare you food from the gods.’

He paused and spread his arms. ‘What’s mine is yours.’ He beamed at them both. ‘Now, tell me, Andy, who is this beautiful lady?’

‘This is Montana. A midwife. Perhaps your son’s sons can be born at the Lake now that she is here.’

‘Sì. This would be excellent.’ He nodded and smiled again. ‘Maybe a granddaughter for my wife one day.’

Andy looked him up and down. ‘You’re looking well. How are Angelina and the boys?’

Angelo patted his round stomach. ‘I am too well. My Angelina you will see later, she is beautiful, and my boys are multiplying. Already I have six grandsons. How can a man be so fortunate? Eh?’

He pointed at Andy and said to Montana, ‘Relax. Enjoy. He is a good man.’

Montana smiled. ‘I know.’

‘I will be back.’ Angelo nodded, smiled and left them.

‘He’s great, Andy. So is this place. I had no idea, judging from the outside, it looks like an ordinary pizza parlour.’

‘Wait till you taste the food.’ He kissed his fingers and grinned. They ordered after much consultation with Angelo, who wouldn’t allow their first choice.

‘You must be brave!’ he said sternly.

Angelo brought them a chilled bottle of sparkling Shiraz from a boutique vineyard. ‘On the house. This is from my cousin in the Hunter Valley and I save it for special occasions. For you. The best wine in Australia. Taste.’

Angelo poured the deep plum-coloured wine and it winkled in their glasses like the fizzing atmosphere that had been building up between Montana and Andy since they’d sat down.

Montana’s first sip made her eyes open wide and Angelo clapped his hands in delight.

‘See!’

‘My goodness.’ She sipped again. The berry-flavoured Shiraz bubbled and rolled on her tongue and this time she closed her eyes to concentrate. ‘Amazing. My first sparkling red and I’m already addicted.’

Angelo left them and Montana looked up to see Andy watching her. A tiny smile tilted the corner of his lips.

It made the warmth steal into her face again and she wished she had a fan to wave and cool her cheeks. ‘What?’

‘You!’ He tilted his head. ‘Watching you makes me smile. You make me feel good.’

The words were simple but there was no doubting his sincerity and he followed them with his hand across the table to capture her fingers.

‘I’m falling for you, Montana, and it’s time I told you that. So I give you purple roses.’

He brushed the blooms at the side of her plate gently. ‘Love at first sight. And I thought that was a myth.’

She could feel the shock reflected in her face and he sat back. Her fingers slid from his and he smiled ruefully.

‘It’s OK. Don’t look so shaken. That’s all. It’s my problem, not yours. I just wanted you to know in case you could begin to think about us building a life together some time in the future.’

He leaned forward and topped up their glasses to help fill the silence that had fallen. She glanced around the room to see if it all still looked the same because suddenly everything was different for her.

Nothing had drastically changed in the environment but things had certainly tilted with her and Andy.

She picked up her glass and swirled the liquid, not sure what to say.

It wasn’t just moving on from the past, and
Douglas, and how she saw her future. It was Andy, fearlessly facing the same and moving on, unlike her. He was incredibly brave. And she didn’t know if she could match that bravery.

The big part of her was terrified that now it had been said and there was no going back, while the other was releasing bursts of tiny bubbles of excitement like the Shiraz in the glass she stared into.

‘Don’t stress. Enjoy the meal.’ Andy’s voice drifted softly over her, just like it had when she’d been on the mountain, and she remembered who he was. This was Andy. She was safe.

‘Just think about it for a while,’ he said. ‘We’re still friends.’

She raised her eyes and nodded her head. He was right. He didn’t expect her to respond in kind in this instant. She couldn’t.

With relief she watched Angelo approach with crusty bruschetta and the Italian’s smile lightened her preoccupation.

The conversation between them turned to the hospital and the new maternity wing. The hunt for staff looked to be easier than expected when word had spread about the caseload midwifery programme.

They discussed a spate of sick children in the last week and gradually she relaxed and began to enjoy herself again.

But now, deep inside, a tiny flicker of joy had ignited to quietly gain in strength as she relaxed, as
if to shine too quickly it might be extinguished. Or maybe that was the wine.

The meal was accompanied by a visit from Angelo’s wife, a tall, black-eyed seductress who Montana thought could never have borne four strapping sons.

‘And she ruled them with a rod of iron. A very strong lady is our Angelina,’ Andy said later when she’d gone.

‘This town becomes more interesting and exciting the more I see of it.’

‘Good,’ said Andy, and she could see he was pleased, although he said no more.

They skipped dessert to savour a liqueur that Angelo insisted they try. Inky black Sambucca brought in tiny shot glasses with coffee beans that Angelo insisted on lighting, whirling, extinguishing and ordering them to sip.

The heated liqueur slid like black gold down her throat and Montana hoped Dawn wouldn’t mind that she’d had two drinks tonight.

When Andy suggested they dance she knew it would feel different now. He stood beside her chair and held out his hand to help her up and she felt like a princess again. How did he do that? Create such magic?

When he circled her waist she closed her eyes and leant against him. His shirt was a thin barrier to the firm muscles under her cheek and his lips near her neck made her sensitive to every breath that he took.

Amazingly their steps matched as they swayed to the music—amazing because no part of her brain could be spared for such a mundane thing as rules of a dance while Andy held her.

And he offered so much more.

On their walk home, when Andy suggested a stroll around the lake, she demurred because she was already heavy with desire and needed time to consider the implications of Andy’s stated intention. So they went home to Dawn and their separate rooms.