IT TOOK HIM a moment to realise what had happened. It was a moment when he instinctively stepped back, when his hand went to his face—and when Misty’s eyes filled with what could only be horror. Her hand went to her own face, as if she was feeling it. As if she herself had been struck.
And then she just...crumpled. She sank to her knees on the stone steps, sagging as if her legs could no longer hold her. But her eyes didn’t leave his and her horror was growing.
‘No! I couldn’t. Angus, I didn’t mean... I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve never hit anyone. How could I...?’ But then her voice broke, and in place of words came a tearing, heart-ripping sob. A sob that felt like a gut punch all on its own.
Before he knew it he was stooping, crouched before her, taking her hands in his, tugging them from her ravaged face, lifting her chin so he could face her. Tears were coursing down her cheeks and sobs were sending shudders right through her.
‘Misty...’
Her words were scarcely coherent. ‘I’m sorry. Lily... I know... I shouldn’t... She’s my responsibility, my family. How can I give her away? I have no right...’
To say he was appalled was an understatement. What sort of mess had he and Jancie landed on this woman? How could he possibly have implied she should do anything other than what she was doing? ‘Misty, you do have the right.’
‘I don’t. I don’t. But I can’t...’ She crumpled again and he couldn’t bear it. Hardly knowing what he was doing, he gathered her to him, cradling her in his arms. He’d sunk back against the stone steps. Her face was buried in his chest and his arms were holding her.
For however long it took.
She cried as if she couldn’t stop and all he could do was hold her and wait for it to pass.
And curse himself for his stupidity.
What had she said? ‘Losing them, or never having them...it makes me want to cling tighter.’
And his response? ‘Except not with Lily.’
His words to her had been crass, cruel, goading. There was no way she should be responsible for his and Jancie’s daughter. Did he want her to feel guilty? That was surely how he’d sounded.
What an oaf. She’d taken on so much—what right did he have to demand more?
And as he sat there, as he hugged her, as she lay limp against him, exhausted by emotion he guessed must have been building from the moment she’d learned of Jancie’s death, for the first time he finally accepted that what had happened was shared responsibility. But that shared responsibility wasn’t hers. It should have been shared with Jancie—and now it was his.
With that he also had to accept that this was his fault. The stress, the heartache Misty was feeling...
But all he could do right now was let her sob and hope that somehow this cry would release a little of the mountain of tension that must have built up to the point where his thoughtless words had led to a slap. And it was only a slap. He deserved so much more.
Finally it eased. She hiccupped and hiccupped again, and he reached for his father’s handkerchief once more. At least this time it might be useful.
It certainly was. She must have sensed his movement because she sniffed and tugged back, accepting the cloth with something like relief. She blew her nose, mopped her face, then stared ruefully down at the very damp cloth.
‘Oh, no. Your beautiful handkerchief. And I hit you. I can’t believe I—’
‘I deserved it,’
‘No one deserves that. Ever.’ She sniffed again and he thought...he thought...
She’s beautiful.
What the...where did that come from?
Beautiful?
He’d thought Jancie was beautiful. Well, she had been. Svelte, glamorous, sexy as hell, perfectly manicured, dressed to kill.
As opposed to her sister. Misty was dressed in faded jeans, a blouse that was frayed at the collar and sneakers that were scuffed and worn. Her knot of soft brown curls had come untied and was half up, half twisting to her shoulders. Her face was blotched with weeping and her eyes were still wet.
She was as far from her sister as it was possible to get and yet...and yet...
The urge to take her in his arms again was almost irresistible.
‘Misty...’ His voice sounded strangled, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was staring instead at his handkerchief.
‘I’m... I’m guessing you don’t want this back now.’
‘I guess I don’t.’
‘I’ll launder it beautifully—you wait and see.’ She was obviously fighting for lightness, fighting for calm. ‘Angus, I never should have done that. You could have me up for assault and I’d deserve it. I think... I think I must be pretty close to the edge.’
‘I’m sure you are.’
‘Well.’ She rose and swiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, obviously still fighting for control. ‘I’ll get there,’ she said. ‘I had one decent night’s sleep last night.’
‘I should have let you sleep for longer.’ He hesitated. ‘Come to think of it, I should have made you stay in Melbourne. Misty, you can’t just plough back into work as if nothing’s happened.’
‘There’s hardly a choice.’
‘I think there might be.’ He hesitated. ‘Okay, here’s an idea. If I’m to take care of Lily long term, then you’re still going to need some help. They say it takes a village to raise a child. I’m starting to realise that might be true. Where’s your village, Misty?’
‘Gran. The islanders...’
‘Yep, they’re a start, but they see you as their doctor—at least I suspect the islanders do—and your gran...she needs a village herself. I’m looking at you and thinking you desperately need time off, to come to terms with your sister’s death. Also to help Forrest, who seems traumatised. And Alice must need it as well—Jancie was her granddaughter, too. It’s been a hell of a week for you all, hasn’t it?’
‘I can cope.’
In answer he put his hand on his still slap-marked face. ‘You did say you don’t normally hit people,’ he said mildly. ‘I know there were solid reasons, but still...you’re a doctor, you must have been provoked any number of times. Haven’t you?’
‘I might have been,’ she admitted.
He could have gone on, outlined the plan he was only just starting to formulate, but the way she said that made him pause. Quite desperately, and for reasons he was struggling to understand, he wanted this woman to have time out and this might be a way to do it. ‘Give me an example,’ he prompted.
‘What, of provocation?’
‘Yes. Not as bad as mine, I hope. This island, though.... Tell me the worst. A time where you really wanted to slap, but couldn’t.’
There was a long pause.
The school of fish down in the bay had obviously attracted a flock of terns. The mass of silver and white birds was wheeling overhead, rising high and then dive-bombing to get their feed for the day.
‘Maureen Frobisher’s ear,’ Misty said cautiously, and Angus nodded. Something—a dolphin maybe—was stirring the fish, driving them into the shallows. Normally Angus would be fascinated, but right now Misty had all his attention.
Why? What was happening here? He didn’t get involved.
Liar. He was involved, like it or not.
‘Maureen Frobisher’s ear,’ he prodded, watching Misty’s eyes light a little. Like him, she seemed to be searching for lightness. Sifting through memories to try and find something...fun?
And maybe she’d found it.
‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘The time I really, really wanted to slap and I couldn’t? Well, here goes.’ Her face relaxed a little—just a little, but enough.
‘Well,’ she said. ‘A couple of tourists, Tom and Maureen Frobisher, were camping on the far side of the island. Twenty minutes’ drive. This happened a few weeks ago, mid tourist season. I’d had a foul day: teenagers in a car crash, multiple casualties with evacuation to Brisbane. Plus I had my normal clinic and Gran was unwell. Then at eight at night Tom rang and said Maureen had an earache. I was tired and hungry, but, dammit, you know ears can’t wait.’
They didn’t wait at his clinic, Angus thought, but not because he was conscientious. If they didn’t fit convenient appointments, they were sent on to the local hospital. But here? No, they couldn’t wait.
‘So I said to come straight over to the clinic. I had to miss reading Forrest a story and put my already dried-out dinner back in the oven. Both Forrest and Gran were upset, but over to the clinic I went, like a good little doctor. And then I had to wait for twenty minutes because they took their own sweet time getting there. But finally Tom arrived—with no Maureen.’
‘Um...’ he said, confused, and she managed a wry smile.
‘Um is right,’ she told him. ‘I think I said, “Where’s your wife?”’, and all Tom said was: “You didn’t tell me I had to bring her with me.” He was indignant and of course it was my fault entirely for not spelling it out, but, oh, the desire to slap...’
He was imagining it. Misty, arriving at a darkened clinic, exhausted already, prepared to tend to a woman’s earache—but there was no woman. ‘I guess...’ he managed to say, his voice a little unsteady, ‘he was expecting you to hand over some sort of one-size-fits-all Ear Fixer?’
‘I guess he was,’ she said and then glowered. ‘Don’t you dare laugh. I was clearly too tired to see the funny side. It meant I had to get in the car and drive across the island to their campsite, only to find out she’d been swimming and her ear was full of water and it took all of two minutes to fix. And of course they had no documentation on them and the next day they were gone, so I couldn’t even bill them for the cost of the petrol.’
‘And yet you didn’t slap?’ he said, wonderingly, and she gave a wry smile.
‘Nope. I saved my slap for you. Angus, I really am sorry.’
‘We’re both sorry,’ he said. But he was suddenly more than sorry. This strange sensation was growing within. Maybe there was sympathy, he thought, but this was more. A lot more.
Misty was coping with so much.
Angus had lost his family when he was nineteen. He’d been gutted, but how much had Misty lost? The same, but in much more dire circumstances.
He’d been left with funds to cope with life. He had a great home. He had friends. His friendship group was pretty much transient—he never let them close and he chose friends who felt pretty much the same—but there were always friends and colleagues to fall back on. Friends to go surfing with, or kayaking or swimming. Colleagues to swap shifts with if the surf was great.
Misty seemed to have had no support at all.
She had courage though, he thought. Courage in spades. And skill and honour and commitment.
She made him feel ashamed.
She made him feel as though he needed to do more than just care for his daughter.
But caring for Lily, he conceded, might well take more time than he could imagine. And thinking that, the germ of an idea that had seeded itself before the slap seemed to swell and grow.
‘Misty, I have surfing friends,’ he said, but she was glancing towards the house. She’d be needed there, he thought. She was needed everywhere. ‘You realise the east coast of this island is a surfer’s paradise?’
‘Your point is? Angus, I need...’
‘You’re so needed,’ he told her. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine how much you’re needed. But it’s been less than two weeks since you found out about your sister’s death, Forrest’s mother’s death, Alice’s granddaughter’s death and, as far as I can see, the only time you’ve taken for yourself is the two nights you spent in Melbourne. So here’s a plan. You all take a break.’
She stopped looking at the house. Instead, she turned and stared at him, as if he’d said something ludicrous.
‘What, just head off on a holiday?’
‘Yes,’ he told her. ‘In a perfect world I’d like to put you and Forrest—and maybe Alice, too, if she wants it—on a plane to Hawaii. But I know it wouldn’t work. I don’t know too much about child psychiatry, but even I can guess that Forrest needs to feel secure, and you and your gran have had enough shocks already. But I think I told you, when I looked up flights to come here, I also looked up places to stay. To be honest...well, if I had to come here I intended to be comfortable and I wasn’t too sure of my welcome with you. So I put a tentative hold on a holiday house just along from here. Sapphire Seas. Do you know it?’
Did she know it? Obviously yes, because her jaw dropped. ‘You’re kidding,’ she managed, turning and staring along the cliffs to where they could see a vast rectangle of gleaming glass and granite on the headland. ‘That’s it there. Do you know who owns it?’
‘No.’
She named an actor whose very name spelled money. American. ‘He came three years in a row for four weeks,’ she told him. ‘That was when his current girlfriend was Australian and he hasn’t been back since they split. It’s supposed to be on the market, but his price is ludicrous. Meanwhile it’s being rented out for a sum that’d make your eyes water.’
‘It did make my eyes water,’ Angus conceded. ‘But I can afford it.’
That left her stunned as well. ‘How can you afford it?’ I mean...with your house, I assume you’re wealthy, but this...’
‘My parents come from old money,’ he told her. ‘Actually, not just my parents, but my grandparents and great-grandparents before them. My parents also had massive life insurance policies and I’ve had a very good investment advisor, so fret not about money. Think about my idea. I’m proposing that you and Forrest and Alice go and stay in it for a month.’
‘Us!’
‘I know, I’m a better fit for such a place,’ he told her and tried a smile. He was hoping he could make her smile back, but it didn’t happen. ‘Misty, your house is right behind the clinic and everyone knows where you are. I’m betting that’s where every local goes when they’re in trouble and I’m starting to figure out how much they depend on you. But my plan is to put the word out. Doctor Calvert desperately needs a break and Dr Firth and his team are taking over. Misty, do you have a work phone or do you use your personal phone for everything?’
‘I have a separate work phone,’ she said, cautiously. ‘I can divert it to Martin if I’m caught up.’
‘Excellent. We can use that or divert it to mine.’ Then, because now he’d said it out loud, it did seem a neat scheme, he let himself grin. He also decided to cup her chin in his hand and force her eyes to meet his gaze. Which felt quite good. Or actually...really good. ‘What do you reckon, sweetheart? Good plan?’
But that brought them both up with a jolt. The touch of his hand on her chin. The words. The word. ‘Did you...did you just call me sweetheart?’ she stammered.
‘Whoops.’ Had he? What was he thinking? ‘Slip of the tongue,’ he told her hastily. ‘I meant—what do you reckon, mate?’
She eyed him cautiously—as though he might be about to grow two heads—but for some reason his hand was still under her chin and she didn’t pull away.
‘Okay. So...mate,’ she said, ‘you’re proposing...what, that you and Lily stay in our house, get to know each other and get Lily settled? Lily, who doesn’t know what settled is? You’re also proposing to take on the medical needs of the whole island while you do it?’
He had to concede it sounded like lunacy, but his plan was extending. It might need finessing, but if the guys were available...
‘I told you, I have surfing friends,’ he said. ‘And many of my surfing friends are also doctors.’
‘Um...so?’
‘So many of them are available for short-term work.’ He hesitated. ‘Misty, you know I’m not all that committed to my career.’
‘Except for studying,’ she said, frowning. She did tug away now, so she could back up and watch him. ‘That surgery... Doozy...it was brilliant.’
‘Of course,’ he said, mock modest. ‘Not being totally committed to medicine doesn’t mean I’ve let my skills slip. Many of my friends do the same. We read. We do online tutorials late at night when there’s no surf...’
‘And no Jancie to keep you amused?’ she responded in a flash.
That caught him. His mind flashed back to the time he’d spent with Jancie. He surely hadn’t spent his nights studying then—but look where that had landed him.
‘As you say,’ he said, trying not to sound grim. Focus on the plan, he told himself. ‘Anyway, I’m not the only medical student who’s decided not to devote all their life to medicine. When I went back to med school I ended up with a like-minded friendship group. Surfing, rock-climbing, kayaking—they’re our passions. Medicine’s what we do to pay for it.’
‘I can’t imagine...’
And he knew she couldn’t. ‘There’s not been a lot of time for rock climbing in your life?’ he asked gently. ‘It’s a whole amazing world out there, Misty, if only you look.’
‘But do you...do you enjoy it?’
‘Of course.’
But did he? There was the rub. His friendship group had morphed during the years, men and women he’d thought totally committed to their fun pursuits slowly dropping out, maybe deciding they wanted to spend more time at work, moving on to specialise, maybe marrying, maybe figuring a once-a-month surf was enough...
The group he surfed and kayaked with now were mostly younger. There were a couple of stayers though, a few even older than himself.
There’d be enough.
‘My plan is to call my surfing buddies,’ he told Misty now. ‘I’ll need at least two to make my plan work, but I might tempt more. The east side of the island’s stunning for surfing. We can hire beach buggies and the guys can bring their boards. The plan is that I’ll be back here with Lily, but I’ll also be Doctor in Charge. I’ll field calls and organise who’s on call or running the clinic.
‘We’ll work on government rates—if we break the day into shifts, the guys can work for their living, and you say your house is big? So... The island’s medical needs will be met. Lily and I will be getting acquainted and you’ll be getting a break. Sapphire Seas has a heated pool. There’s a beach below the house. You can read. You can spend time with Forrest. What’s not to love?’
‘But...’ She practically gaped. Every one of the prospects he was suggesting made her feel dizzy. She grasped what seemed the closest. Multiple doctors. Here. ‘Are these doctors any good?’
‘We’re all competent,’ he told her. ‘And you won’t be leaving, Misty. You can keep an eye on us from afar, or from close up if you have a set of binoculars. If it doesn’t work out, you can move back in again and kick us out. So tell me...what do you have to lose?’
There was a stunned silence. She could hardly take in what was being proposed. How on earth could she answer? ‘This seems a joke,’ she stammered at last. ‘Would they really come?’
‘I’d have to ask,’ he told her. ‘But most are employed casually, as locums, or in the same type of clinic I work in. I’m betting they’ll come. The weather in Melbourne’s starting to close in. It’ll be the surf that lures them.’
‘Not for you?’ she asked, confused. ‘Wouldn’t they do it for their friendship with you?’
‘We’re close, but not so close.’
That made her pause again. She looked at him for a long moment, considering probing further, but then decided to stick to practicalities.
‘So...’ she said slowly. ‘They’d live in our house?’
‘I don’t see that it’d work any other way. If there’s trouble, the islanders will come there looking for you.’
‘They’ll still want me.’
‘But you’re on bereavement leave,’ he told her, his voice gentling again. ‘That’s what we’ll call it, and if you move out of the doctor’s house, if we provide an alternative, the islanders should respect it. Four weeks of nothing, Misty. What do you say?’
What did she say?
What could she say?
Four weeks of...bereavement leave?
She wasn’t gutted by Jancie’s death—how could she be? Jancie had been eight years older than her, almost closer to her mother’s age than hers. She’d left home when Misty was nine and the next time Misty had had much to do with her was when she’d had that first call from a social worker, asking if she could take care of Forrest. So now... Yes, Jancie’s death had shocked her. She had felt grief, but that grief had mostly been for Forrest.
Ever since he’d heard of his mother’s death, the little boy had been so subdued that Misty had been thinking that as soon as Lily’s needs were met she should organise a trip to a mainland counsellor. Jancie had been an appalling parent, but she’d still been... Mum.
In the last twelve months, living with Misty and Alice, Forrest had started to settle, had started to come out of his shell, had even started to call for Misty when he had a nightmare rather than Jancie. But the news of his mother’s death had made him retreat and the subsequent turmoil while she’d tried to care for Lily had made things worse.
What he desperately needed—even more than professional counselling, Misty thought—was time. He needed cuddles and stability. He needed Misty with him for as long as necessary, a Misty who wasn’t preoccupied with medicine and a newborn.
And now Angus was offering just that.
‘Yes,’ she said and the word startled even her. Surely she hadn’t meant to say it? Surely she should have thought about it, found out more about Angus’s friends, talked to Alice. But her yes was already out there. Four weeks of no responsibilities except Forrest and Gran... She’d never had such a thing, never had such a time.
‘That was fast.’ He was smiling and it was as if the smile was directed straight at her. And maybe it was. Or surely it was. He looked delighted, but there was more than delight behind the smile. He was searching her face, as if he could see right behind it.
‘It seems irresponsible,’ she said, and his smile deepened.
‘Irresponsibility has a lot going for it,’ he told her. ‘Just ask me. Irresponsibility is my middle name.’
‘And yet you will try to love Lily?’
Love... The word hung between them and Angus’s smile faded.
‘Honestly, Misty, I don’t know whether I can.’
What a thing to say. She felt a flash of anger, but then she looked at his face and saw...fear?
Suddenly she thought, this man is in as big a mess as I am. Maybe bigger. I have my gran and Forrest. I have my island, my community. He has, what, friends who’ll come here because of the promise of surf?
She’d handed Lily over to him in the hope that he could love her. Could he?
Surely he’d loved once. His parents, his brother, they’d all be somewhere in his heart, and somewhere in there as well was all they’d ever taught him about loving. So what she saw on his face—was that the terror of letting something else—someone else—add to that pain?
She was suddenly thinking of kids she’d treated, coming in after falls from bikes, after tumbles from cliffs, cuts, fractures, all the many accidents that happened to island kids. But every child she’d treated—every one of them—had a mum or a dad or a grandparent, someone, to hold them, to hug them, to help get them through.
And then Misty was thinking of nineteen-year-old Angus, surely not much older than the kids she treated, surely not old enough to be a man. Maybe he’d been at university when he heard of his family’s death, surrounded by kids who were too young to be empathic.
The surfing, the disassociation, the fear of attachment... She got it.
And as acceptance dawned on just how big the shock of being landed with a daughter must have been for him, she looked up and read his expression, and something deeper seemed to be happening. Their gazes locked and in his eyes she no longer saw a carefree surfer/doctor fighting to maintain emotional detachment, but something...someone...much deeper.
She couldn’t help herself. Before she knew what she was doing, she raised her hand and cupped his cheek in her palm. ‘You’re doing great, Angus,’ she whispered. ‘You’re doing just great.’
He stared at her as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.
‘It’s not me...’
‘It is you,’ she told him. ‘Angus, when your parents died...did anyone hug you?’
He stared at her blankly. ‘I had friends. They took me surfing, kept me busy, kept the demons at bay.’
‘But hugs? Someone to help you face those demons?’
‘Misty...’
‘I know, I sound like a psychiatrist rather than a family doctor,’ she told him. ‘Maybe what you need is four weeks’ parental leave, four weeks to get to know your daughter.’
But at that, his look of panic deepened. She smiled, but didn’t take her hand away. For some reason the link seemed important. ‘I know, you need distance, or at least perceived distance,’ she told him. ‘You can’t get a nanny here, so having friends around you might be the next best thing. But they can’t cocoon you against Lily. In four weeks...if you let it, might that be long enough to fall in love?’
‘Fall...?’
‘With your daughter,’ she said and still the link of hand to face remained. ‘Angus, your idea is a good one. It might just work for all of us. Thank you.’
And then—because the fear was still there and he was no longer seeming to her like a surfing playboy doctor, but instead she was seeing that bereft, grief-stricken boy—there was suddenly no space for reason. Before she could help herself, she leaned forward, tilted upwards on her toes...and kissed him.
Angus Firth had been kissed by women before. Many women. Kissing was something he enjoyed. He also thought that he was pretty good at it.
This, though, wasn’t a kiss like he’d ever experienced.
Misty’s kiss landed on his mouth. She possibly hadn’t intended that. He must have moved his head. Maybe she’d aimed for a brush against his cheek, the sort of kiss a friend might offer in greeting or farewell. Or in thanks for a gift?
That’s what it was meant to be, surely. He’d just organised a break for her, time out from an impossible situation, so a brief, formal kiss was acceptable.
Except this kiss was nothing like that.
Because, with a formal kiss, his hands should have stayed by his sides. The kiss should have been a brush of contact, and then both sides would withdraw. But almost instinctively—it must have been instinct—his hands caught her waist and then the brush of her lips on his mouth became something else entirely.
But this wasn’t a seductive prelude to sexual attraction. It was...it was...
Okay, he didn’t know what it was. All he knew was that suddenly he was holding her, tugging her body against him and kissing her in return. In response, almost unbelievably, her hands slid around his neck and the kiss deepened.
And the sensation...
He felt as though he’d come home.
The concept was so bizarre that it almost overwhelmed him. He felt light-headed. Spacey. As though this was an out-of-body experience.
Home? What was he thinking?
Home was a house back in Melbourne, or a duffel bag of gear at a surfer’s hotel, or even the sanctuary of his sparse consulting rooms at work. It certainly wasn’t in the arms of this weary, overwhelmed woman.
And she was weary and she was overwhelmed, so he had no right, no business, no reason, to be kissing her. To be holding her with tenderness. To be feeling tenderness in return.
There was no reason at all to be kissing her like this.
There was no reason at all to feel as though here was home.
What was she doing? Was she out of her mind?
She was kissing the man who’d slept with her sister, who’d fathered her niece, who had nothing at all to do with her, except that she needed him to take some of the responsibility from her shoulders.
But she was kissing him, right here, in broad daylight, where anyone passing by could see, where people could think...
But who cared what people thought, because who could think of anything when being kissed like this?
But she wasn’t being kissed. She’d started this. She’d kissed him.
But she hadn’t meant...she hadn’t meant...
But there her thoughts ended. She couldn’t think, because her body was demanding one thing only: that she kiss and she be kissed. That she let herself melt against this man and be held as if she belonged there. That nothing mattered except right now.