Marion Lennox - Misty and the Single Dad

Oh, help. She was really crying now. She was crying and crying, and an elderly woman cast her a sideways look and stopped.

‘Are you okay, dear?’ she said. ‘Is this man annoying you? Can I get my husband to carry your bags aboard?’

‘I…’ She had to pull herself together. Somehow. She sniffed and sniffed again. ‘I’m fine,’ she managed. ‘I’m really fine. This gentleman’s not annoying me at all. In fact…’ She took a deep breath. Regrouped. Cast a last look at a big white fibreglass boat that was no longer about to carry her to her dreams.

‘In fact, I might have found someone to carry my bags for me,’ she managed, and she smiled. And then she smiled and smiled, and before the elderly lady knew what hit her she reached out and hugged her. ‘But thank you for offering. I love it that you offered your husband, but I believe I might just have found my own.’

‘You mean you’ll let us join you?’ Nick asked and the whole world held its breath.

Her world settled. Her heart started beating again. She was standing before the man she loved with all her heart, and her list was waiting.

‘Why, yes,’ she said as he reached for her and beside her an extremely astonished elderly lady started to smile as well. ‘Why, yes, I believe I will.’

Sunrise.

Bailey was still in bed, deeply asleep. He’d had a really big day yesterday, trudging gamely up the sides of the hills of Tulloch. He’d seen snow buntings. He’d giggled and run and been every inch the child he should be.

He seemed younger now than he’d been twelve months ago. That was great. It was how it should be. He was confident and happy. If he woke now, he had his dogs on his bed and the lovely lady who ran their bed and breakfast overlooking the loch would reassure him that Dad and Misty would soon be home.

But not yet. Bailey might have seen a snow bunting but Misty wanted to hear them, and there wasn’t a lot of listening to be had with a chattering seven-year-old. So they’d crept away at dawn, rugged up, because even in summer the Highlands could be cool and misty.

They walked side by side up the scree, sometimes hand in hand, steadying each other, sometimes coming close, hugging, then clambering the tricky bits apart…and then coming together again as they intended coming together for the rest of their lives.

They reached the point the landlady had suggested. They sank into a bed of heather-not so soft as Misty had imagined-she did need to keep adjusting these dreams-and they watched the sun rise over the distant peaks.

In silence. Apart from the snow buntings.

It was the best…

Where had she read the words… ‘It’s not how many breaths you take; it’s how often your breath is taken away’?

Her breath was taken away now. She was lying in heather on a Scottish hillside, listening to the birds she’d read about for so long, beside the man she loved. Her husband.

They’d married in Greece, on the Isle of Lindos. In an ancient temple overlooking the Aegean Sea. Lindos hadn’t been on her list but there’d been a few wonderful additions to her list and there were more to come.

‘Does this place come up to scratch?’ Nick asked her as the sun rose higher and the tangerine blush faded to the cool, clear grey of the day. ‘Can we put a tick beside this one?’

‘Yep,’ she said and rolled happily into his arms. ‘Yes, we can. Definitely a tick. Or maybe a scratch is a better description. Oh, Nick, I love you.’

‘I love you, too,’ he said and he kissed her long and wondrously and they clung and held-two lovers finding their dreams together. ‘You want to go back to bed?’ he asked as the kiss finally ended and she knew by the passion in his voice what he wanted-what they both wanted right now.

‘Wuss,’ she said. ‘Just because heather’s a bit scratchy.’

‘A lot scratchy. Double bed back at the house. Pillows. More pillows. Lovely, soft quilt.’

‘Take your coat off,’ she ordered. ‘Heather. More heather. Lovely soft coat.’

‘Wicked woman. Someone might see.’

‘We’re the only people in the world,’ she said and kissed him again. ‘Don’t you know?’

‘We’re not, you know,’ he said and held her close. ‘Misty, it’s almost time we went home.’

Home. Banksia Bay. It was waiting for them, a lovely place to come home to.

But maybe not for ever. They’d leave and leave again, she thought. But for now…maybe they did need a bit of stability.

Banksia Bay was a good place to have a baby. Twelve weeks to go… She put her hand on her tummy and she felt her baby move, and she thought life couldn’t get any better than it was right now.

‘I’m thinking we should get another dog,’ Nick said and she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked down at him. Dark and lean and dangerous. Wickedly laughing.

Her Nick.

‘Why would we get another dog?’

‘I’ve been thinking…’

‘Thinking’s risky.’

‘Yes, but…’ He tugged her down and kissed her nose. ‘Ketchup and Took…in a way they brought us together.’

‘I guess they did.’

‘So to bring this new little person into the family…’

‘We need another dog?’

‘A pound dog,’ he said in satisfaction. ‘One who needs a home.’

‘We’d have to extend the sand tray on Mahelkee .’

‘I’m a marine architect,’ he said smugly. ‘Bigger sand tray? I can handle that.’

‘Baby first,’ she said. ‘Dogs need attention.’

‘Home first,’ he said, unbuttoning her coat with delicious, languorous ease. ‘Banksia Bay.’

‘For now,’ she said and kissed him and kissed him again, as she intended to kiss him for the rest of her life. ‘Banksia Bay’s our base. Somewhere Bailey can go to school, where we can work, where we can recoup for the next adventure. But home? Home’s where the heart is. Home’s number thirteen or number fourteen on our list. Home’s wherever we are, my love. Home is where I am, right now.’

Marion Lennoxis a country girl, born on an Australian dairy farm. She moved on mostly because the cows just weren’t interested in her stories! Married to a “very special doctor,” Marion writes Medical Romances as well as Mills & Boon Romance (she used to write under the name of Trisha David, too). She’s now had more than 80 romance novels published.

In her nonwriting life, Marion cares for kids, cats, dogs, chickens, and goldfish. She travels and she fights her rampant garden (she’s losing) and her house dust (she’s lost).

Having spun in circles for the first part of her life, she’s now stepped back from her “other” career, which was teaching statistics at her local university. Finally, she’s reprioritized her life, figured out what’s important and discovered the joys of deep baths, romance and chocolate. Preferably all at the same time!