Читать книгу Single Father: Wife and Mother Wanted - Sharon Archer - Страница 11

STRUCK out big time. Matt’s mood dipped as the MG rounded a curve and disappeared behind a stand of scrubby bush. Once upon a time, he might have managed a phone number.

Nicky shifted. Stifling a sigh, Matt roused himself.

‘She’s nice.’ Nicky looked up. ‘I like her.’

‘Me, too, mate.’ Perhaps just a tad too much. He couldn’t put himself on the line in a relationship again, leave himself vulnerable the way he had with Sophie. That had nearly destroyed him. If he hadn’t had to pull himself together for Nicky’s sake, Matt wondered how he’d have ended up.

Since the end of his marriage his interest in female company had been precisely zero. A chance meeting with a little Irish veterinarian had changed that.

Maybe his foster-mother was right. Maybe he did need to get out more. She was always encouraging him to find a good woman. A partner for him, a mother for Nicky. Prospects were trawled under his nose from time to time. Doreen made no secret of wanting more grandchildren.

He’d have to put Caitlin Butler-Brown down to experience, as the one that got away, and make more of a commitment to his social life. The thought of leaping back into the dating game made him shudder. But leaping anywhere with a certain veterinarian for some reason seemed outrageously appealing. Which showed that the scars from his marriage hadn’t completely killed his masculinity after all.

One look and his wary heart wanted nothing more than to plop into Caitlin’s clever, caring hands. He should be looking for a nice country girl. Much more sensible. Though perhaps not. He grimaced wryly. His ex-wife, Sophie, had been a home-grown Garrangay girl. And their marriage had been a total disaster.

‘Let’s go and talk to Mr Neilson and then we can head home.’ With one last glance along the empty road, he followed Nicky back towards the float and truck.

Jim was watching the foal’s increasingly confident forays.

‘Your mare and foal need to stay here for at least a week. Vet’s orders,’ said Matt.

‘A week! I can’t leave her here that long,’ Jim gasped.

‘You don’t have a choice,’ Matt said. ‘You were a damned fool to try and move her so close to foaling. And you know it. Caitlin hasn’t saved your mare for you to risk the animal’s life again. Organising agistment here until she’s fit to travel is a small price to pay.’

Jim coughed and spluttered before he nodded grudgingly. ‘Here, you’d better take this. Your friend left it.’ He held out Caitlin’s black padded jacket.

Matt’s fingers sank into the down-filled softness and warmed instantly. Her perfume wafted up, the floral tang bringing a sharp memory of clear, smiling, grey eyes.

Resolutely, he tightened his grip. It was an expensive garment, the sort that someone would want back.

‘Thanks. I’ll get it back to her. Come on, Nicky.’

Whistling softly, he tucked the coat under his arm and set off across the paddock. He had a cast-iron excuse for tracking her down without looking like some sort of unbalanced weirdo.

He knew her name. Knew she was a veterinarian with delightful hints of an Irish accent. How hard could it be?

Nothing she’d said gave him a clue where she was staying, except that it was somewhere in the area. He knew where he’d start. With his foster-mother and her contacts in the local accommodation industry. If he had to, he’d work his way through every motel, bed and breakfast, hotel and hostel in the district.

The Grampians loomed over her aunt’s bed and breakfast. Remnants of fog clinging around the base did nothing to soften the daunting majesty. Despite the late morning sun, Caitlin shivered. The stark, craggy range glowered down at her, challenging her right to be there.

Her stomach clenched as doubts suddenly swamped her. Perhaps she should have written first. Prepared her aunt. How would the poor woman react to having a stranger drop into her life without warning?

Not for the first time, she wondered if her father had had other siblings. Was there a whole host of aunts and uncles and cousins lurking in Garrangay? She swallowed as her heart skipped uncomfortably.

As it stood, she was the only child of parents estranged from any family they’d had. Martin Brown and Rowan Butler. Her family was a tiny unit, even smaller now that her father had passed away.

Three hundred kilometres away, in the comfortable suburbs of Melbourne, this whole venture had seemed simple. But here, on her aunt’s doorstep, it seemed fraught with complexity. Her usual calm detachment deserted her completely, leaving her mouth dry, a sinking sensation in her stomach. The urge to get back in the car and drive away was almost overwhelming.

She shut her eyes. Waiting behind her closed lids was a clear vision of brooding, green eyes beneath a dark gold thatch of hair. Her eyes snapped open. Dr Matt Gardiner.

There was an intensity about him—and her reaction to him—that was unnerving. She’d read the interest in his eyes, seen it turn to curiosity after she’d fumbled with answering his questions.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of her gauche behaviour. Stupid. He’d even provided a ready answer for her—a holiday. All she’d had to do was say yes. Instead, she’d hesitated and that stark tension had sprung up between them.

‘We hardly ever bite our guests.’

She spun around. A pleasantly plump woman smiled at her from a few feet away.

Her aunt? Caitlin stared, searching the face, the friendly blue-grey eyes.

‘Mrs Mills? I’m Caitlin Butler-Brown,’ she said, pushing the words past the constriction in her throat.

The welcoming smile faltered, replaced by a peculiar, almost stunned look.

Oh, Lord. Was it recognition?

It couldn’t be. Da had said his sister didn’t know he’d even married, let alone that he’d had a child.

Her surname was Butler-Brown, no reason at all for Doreen to associate the hyphenated name with Martin Brown.

And, besides, everyone said she favoured her mother in looks. Except for her eye colour. The silvery grey came straight from Doreen’s brother…Caitlin’s father.

Suffocating panic made her want to retreat, snatch open the door of her car and drive away. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all.

‘I—I have a booking.’

‘Oh. A booking. Yes. Of course you do.’ The woman seemed to shake herself mentally. ‘I’m sorry, dear. Come in. Come in. Let’s go around the back. Did you want to bring your bag in now or…?’

‘Er, I might leave it until later.’ If her courage failed her, she could still make that dash for Melbourne.

‘I thought you might have come a bit earlier. Oh, but I expect you’ve been sightseeing.’

‘Mmm, yes. I have.’ That was one way of describing her long morning. She’d found a public bathroom so she could have a wash and change her top. Then lingered over cups of coffee while she’d debated whether she’d continue with her plans or retreat back to Melbourne.

‘You don’t mind using the tradesmen’s entrance, do you? I’ve been gardening. That’s what I was doing when I saw you.’

Now that the woman had started, it seemed as though the sentences gushed out.

‘I’m Doreen Mills.’ She gave a small, embarrassed laugh and her hands fluttered briefly. ‘But you know that. Call me Doreen, of course. We don’t stand on ceremony. I’ve not long taken some muffins out of the oven. I got so involved with the broad beans I nearly burnt them. The muffins, that is, not the beans.’

‘I…see.’ Caitlin bit back an urge to giggle lest it explode into full-blown hysterical laughter. She waited for her aunt to lever off her dirty boots at the step.

‘I’ll show you your room. Then we can have a nice cup of tea.’

The house smelled of the muffins and lavender and lemon polish. Everything was spotless and tidy without seeming intimidating. It was…homey and welcoming. Settled in a way that her family’s houses had never managed, Caitlin realised with a small sense of envy. It beckoned to her but at the same time left her feeling like an outsider, as though she could never quite belong there.

‘I’ll put the jug on, then.’ The flow of words stopped abruptly.

‘Doreen?’ Caitlin frowned. Was her aunt looking a little pinched around the mouth? ‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, dear, yes. Nothing to worry about. I’d better just…’ Doreen rummaged in a large bag then pulled out a box and shook out a blister packet ‘…take a tablet.’

Caitlin glanced at the label. Glycerol trinitrate. Her stomach swooped on a quick flood of anxiety. Her aunt had a heart condition. ‘You’re having chest pain? How bad is it?’

‘Mild angina, dear. I’ll be right in a minute.’ But Doreen allowed herself to be led over to the table and pushed gently into a chair.

‘Sit here now and we’ll see how you’re feeling.’ Caitlin slipped into the chair beside her hostess. To her critical eye, Doreen’s colour seemed good. Better now, in fact, than it had been outside. ‘Do you want me to call your doctor?’

‘No, no. Heavens no. Silly me. I’ve overdone it in the garden, that’s all. I’ll be good as gold after we’ve had that cuppa.’ Doreen grimaced ruefully, her eyes glinting with affectionate humour. ‘And Matt will just growl at me.’

‘Matt? Your doctor? That wouldn’t be Dr Matt Gardiner, would it?’ An odd sense of inevitability settled over Caitlin.

‘My son. Well, technically my foster-son, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Caitlin faintly. That would teach her to ignore her earlier shiver of premonition. She wondered what else might be in store.

Doreen made a small grimace, looking resigned. ‘I’ll tell him tonight when he comes home.’

‘Comes home?’ Shock numbed Caitlin’s tongue, making her stumble over the simple words.

‘Yes. He’s—’ Doreen broke off, her head cocked to one side. ‘Oh, dear. I’m not expecting anyone. I wonder if that’s him.’

Caitlin had been vaguely aware of the sound of the crunch of car wheels on gravel. Now a door on the other side of the house banged shut.

‘Him? You mean Matt?’ Her voice wasn’t much more than a squeak. She was still grappling with the idea that he lived here. It was too much to think that he might actually be here. No. She couldn’t meet him again. Not right now. Not without some time to prepare.

‘Yes. He has an uncanny knack of…. Oh, dear. Please don’t say anything about my little episode, will you, Caitlin?’ Doreen shot a guilty look towards the door. ‘He’s had such a dreadful morning, I don’t want to add to his load today.’

‘But—’

‘Mum?’ The rich, deep voice jolted Caitlin to the core.

She swallowed hard, clasping her hands together tightly in her lap to prevent her fingers betraying her internal shudders.

‘We’re in the kitchen.’ Doreen gave Caitlin a conspiratorial smile.

‘Something smells delicious.’ Matt came through into the large kitchen-dining area. The easy smile on his face froze as his whole body seemed to do a double-take. Caitlin’s brain played the scene in slow motion so that it seemed to progress inexorably from frame to frame.

‘You.’ He was obviously having trouble believing his eyes. ‘You’re here.’

‘Yes,’ she managed. She felt barely able to string thoughts together, let alone put them into words to form coherent sentences.

‘Oh, you two have met.’ Doreen sounded intrigued.

‘Yes. At Jim’s accident this morning. This is the Caitlin that Nicky was talking about. She delivered the foal.’ Matt’s disbelieving eyes stayed focussed on her face. Almost as though he expected her to disappear if he looked away.

‘Oh, my. Nicky’s going to be so excited to see you,’ said Doreen.

Caitlin smiled weakly.

‘So staying here was one of those plans you were talking about earlier,’ said Matt.

‘Yes,’ she croaked.

‘Then you’ll be here when I get home later?’

She stared at him. Escape to Melbourne beckoned.

‘Of course she will be, dear,’ said Doreen. ‘She’s booked in for a week.’

‘Bookings can be changed,’ he murmured, his eyes all too knowing. ‘Caitlin?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’

His mouth moved into a small smile and a spark of humour lit the green eyes. ‘Yes, you’ll be here? Or, yes, bookings can be changed?’

‘Um. Yes. I’ll be here.’ Why did she feel as though she’d committed herself to more than simple accommodation?

‘Good.’ He nodded with satisfaction. ‘Right. I’ll be off, then.’

‘Do you have time for lunch, dear?’ said Doreen.

‘Had some, thanks. I just called in to pick up these files.’ He shifted and for the first time Caitlin noticed he was carrying a wad of papers. ‘I’ll take some of whatever smells so good back to work with me, though.’

‘Muffins. I’ll get you something to put them in.’ Doreen slipped away from the table.

Compelled to break the small ensuing silence, Caitlin asked, ‘How—how did Mr Neilson take the news about not moving the mare and foal?’

‘He accepted it. You must have charmed him.’

‘As long as he doesn’t rush it.’

‘Here you are.’ Doreen was back, holding out a bulging bag.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ He kissed her cheek then looked back at Caitlin. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She hoped the smile she gave him didn’t look as feeble as it felt.

After he’d gone, Doreen sat down again. ‘Thank you so much for being discreet, dear. I feel a bit mean, involving you like that. But fancy it being you who was there to help this morning. I should have put two and two together earlier—Caitlin is an unusual name. But when you introduced yourself…I was so…’ She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, I’m just a bit muddle-headed today.’

Caitlin bit down on her lip, wondering what her aunt had been going to say. ‘Sure, and don’t we all have those days.’

‘Some of us more than others.’ Doreen smiled, but her eyes were thoughtful. ‘Have you always worked with horses?’

‘Never. I’m a small-animal vet.’ Caitlin raised her voice to speak over the whistling of the kettle. ‘You stay here. I’ll fix the tea.’

‘Oh, but you’re my guest,’ Doreen protested as Caitlin crossed to the kitchen to where all the tea things were laid out.

‘You’ve got it ready, all I’m doing is the kettle,’ said Caitlin, as she reached for the switch. ‘Matt’s practice is in Garrangay, then, is it?’

‘Yes, he took over from Bert Smythe when he retired. Matt’s built the practice up, modernised it,’ said Doreen proudly. ‘Poor old Bert had let things go a bit in his last few years.’

Having poured the boiling water onto the tea-leaves in the pot, Caitlin placed everything onto a tray and carried it across to the table. ‘It must be nice for you, having Matt and Nicky living here with you.’

‘Yes, it is, though, strictly speaking, I live with them, of course,’ said Doreen. ‘Matt bought the place when my husband’s health deteriorated and organised renovations to make things easier for us. After Peter passed away, I was rattling around, wondering what to do with myself. Matt suggested turning it into a bed and breakfast. Milk for you?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Caitlin accepted the proffered cup. ‘It’s a grand old building.’

‘My great-great-grandfather, William Elijah Brown, built it. He and my great-great-grandmother, Lily, were early pioneers in the district.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Don’t get me started or I’ll have you looking at all my old photos.’

A sharp quiver ran though Caitlin’s stomach. The man who had built this magnificent place, who had worked and, with his wife, raised a family here, was her ancestor, too. Longing and sadness tempered a feeling of pride.

‘I’d love to see them—the photos.’ A sudden fierce need to put faces to the names pulled at her. And maybe it would lead in to a way to tell Doreen why she was here. ‘I’ve always loved old photos, wondering about the people in them, what their lives were like.’

Doreen fixed her with a quick searching look, which changed to a delighted smile. ‘Well, it just so happens I love showing them off. Let’s take our cuppa into the lounge, shall we?’

Caitlin’s legs felt rubbery as she followed her aunt.

‘I’ve put the best of the best in this album,’ said Doreen, patting the sofa beside her. ‘If you’re really interested in what their lives were like, I’ve got a collection of newspaper articles I can show you some time.’

Doreen flipped through a parade of sepia-toned photos, pointing out an ancestor here and there with an amusing story. The formality of the poses, women in long dresses, men in suits and uniforms, held Caitlin enthralled. If she’d been on her own, she would have taken much longer to look at them.

‘Is this you?’ she said, when they came to a candid photo of a young girl with a woman and toddler taken outside Mill House. The gardens around the house were much simpler and the verandah looked as though it had been enclosed.

‘Yes.’

‘So that’s…’ Caitlin’s throat closed over.

‘Mum and my brother, Marty.’

Caitlin was ambushed by a paralysing breathlessness. The toddler was her father. Her father.

Doreen stroked the photo lightly with a fingertip, her face suddenly etched with grief. Moisture prickled Caitlin’s eyes in sympathy and she had to look away.

Oh, God. How stupid to think that the photographs might have created an opportunity to talk about Martin Brown’s death. Sorrow clogged her throat in a painful ball. No way could she speak about her father’s death right now, even if she’d wanted to. Her own emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. She needed to be better prepared, to have the words ready, practised.

Doreen cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, that’s enough for today.’ She closed the album with a snap. ‘Finish your tea and then I’ll show you your room so you can bring your bags in and get settled.’

‘Oh. But…. Are you sure you’re up to having a guest after your angina attack? I can easily arrange to stay somewhere else.’ She pushed aside her promise to Matt about being at the house when he returned. After all, he hadn’t known about the angina attack when he’d pinned her down about her booking. If Doreen needed to cancel, Caitlin wasn’t going to feel bad about leaving.

‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Please. I’ll be so disappointed if you leave now.’

‘As long as you promise to say if it does get too much,’ said Caitlin, after a small hesitation. Perhaps she could ask Matt if Doreen’s health was strong enough. But that would involve breaking her aunt’s confidence. Her life seemed to be filling with all manner of deceptions.

Doreen clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Wonderful. And why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? It’s just a casserole,’ she said quickly, when Caitlin would have refused. ‘I’ve had it in the slow cooker since this morning so it’s no trouble. None at all.’

‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ Caitlin said, responding to the apparent underlying plea. Was it real or was she hearing what she wanted to hear? Letting her own yearning for family colour her judgement? After all, Doreen didn’t know she’d just invited her niece to share a meal.

Doreen’s face lit up with pleasure and an answering glow settled in Caitlin’s heart. Matt would probably be there but this time she had the advantage of being able to prepare for their next meeting. She’d be able to handle him and this inconvenient attraction.

She had to…he was a part of her aunt’s life.

Matt puffed out a breath as he stacked the papers on the back seat of his vehicle. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

Caitlin was here. In Mill House. In his home.

Not that she was here to see him. With his system starting to settle, he could recognise that she’d been as disturbed as he’d been by the coincidence. In fact, her reaction had been closer to horror.

He’d been so completely thrown that he hadn’t thought of any of the questions that crowded into his mind now. Especially about her strange reaction to his comments when he’d helped her wash her hands earlier. He’d had the feeling that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what.

He slid into the driver’s seat, the wadded black lump on the passenger’s seat catching his eye. Caitlin’s jacket. He’d completely forgotten about it.

In the end, the chance to return the jacket had arrived with minimal effort on his part.

Always assuming, of course, that Caitlin was still here when he got home.

She’d said she would be.

He hoped she would be.

Mostly.