Marion Lennox - Dynamite Doc or Christmas Dad?

The staff were lovely, casually dressed, seemingly casually behaved, but nothing was too much trouble.

A very pregnant receptionist—Kathy—accompanied them to their bungalow and made sure they had everything they needed, chatting to them about how wonderful the island was. There was no doubting her sincerity—this wasn’t a pre-prepared spiel. She organised beach equipment and told them how to organise surfing lessons for Dusty. A cassowary strutted past within two minutes of their arrival.

Dusty was too hornswoggled to think any more about his flash of insight as to Ben’s identity, and Jess had let it slide. Thankfully. Ben Oaklander could be forgotten. For now. They headed for the sea and she blocked him out. Almost.

Not wanting to face one of the resort restaurants—and not only because Ben might be there; jet lag was taking its toll—they had room-service dinner brought to them by the lovely Kathy. They fell into bed, exhausted. When they woke, the sun was streaming into their little house, sandpipers were darting back and forth on the sand right under their window, the sea was turquoise and sparkling and Jess thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

Ben Oaklander or not, this was the right thing to do. To bring Dusty here, away from the grief of his first Christmas without his beloved gran, without London’s sleet and bitter cold …

Happiness was right now.

Dusty was waking, his hand automatically groping beside his bed for his spade. Kathy had organised Dusty a man-sized bucket and a businesslike bushman’s spade and Dusty had glowed. Last night they’d built a sandcastle to top all sandcastles. He’d washed his shovel with care, it rested on the floor beside him and sometimes during the night she’d heard him stir, remember it and reach down to touch it. As if to reassure himself this place was real.

She needed the reassurance, too.

Beach and breakfast. But then …

At ten she was getting into a beach buggy with Ben Oaklander and heading to the wildlife shelter.

Even Ben Oaklander was hardly a blip on her happiness radar. Should she talk to Dusty about him now? Maybe not. They’d talked about it back in England. She’d told him she thought his uncle would be here. The plan was that when Ben figured who they were, it’d be treated as a coincidence, so the less she said about it now the better. They certainly hadn’t come all this way to find him.

It was an aside, she told herself. A tiny part of a huge adventure. She wouldn’t worry about it.

She glanced out at the shimmering sea and felt at peace.

This holiday marked the end of a very long struggle. Years of financial hardship. Years of worrying about her son and her mother.

And they lived happily ever after …

That’s what this was, she thought. Happy ever after. No matter that their time here was short, they’d take memories of this place home in their hearts.

And when Dusty confirmed who Ben was, then Dusty would have memories of him and could tell his friends.

‘My uncle lives in Australia. He’s a doctor like my mum. He delivers babies but sometimes he delivers puppies.’

She grinned at that, thinking of Ben’s horror at the thought of being a pug-doctor.

How would he react when he found out their relationship?

If he was mean to Dusty …

She wouldn’t let it happen. She was a stronger person now. She’d quailed before Nate’s father. She had no intention of reacting the same way again.

If it came out— when it came out—she could deal with it. She could protect her son.

But now Dusty was waking, gazing out at the beach with awe. A swim before breakfast? Why not?

Who cared about Ben Oaklander? They had ten days of paradise before them, starting now.

Ben woke to the sound of Jess and Dusty playing in the shallows. He gazed down to the water and saw them. They were shouting, laughing, falling into the waves, spluttering, hugging. Mother and son.

He watched them, an outsider looking. He lay quite still, as if movement might make them aware, might mar their happiness.

For happiness there certainly was.

She was wearing a crimson bikini. Slim and graceful, she dived through the shallow waves, encouraging her son to join her. Every time she emerged, she swept her mass of curls back from her face, streaming water. She laughed and teased her son and the little boy laughed back at her.

Gloriously content.

Family.

Maybe he could have it, he thought. If he was prepared to take a chance.

He wasn’t.

Louise’s reaction during their last dinner had shocked him. She’d declared herself a consummate professional, determined not to have children.

They’d had a great relationship, as colleagues, as friends, as lovers at need, when it hadn’t interfered with either of their lives.

She’d shocked him by her turn-around.

He’d gone to see her before he’d left. Apologised. ‘I’m sorry. I know made things clear at the beginning of our relationship but I should have kept checking.’

‘And I should have talked about my change of heart,’ she’d admitted. ‘I know I said I never wanted family; babies. I can’t think why I do now, but I do.’

They’d parted friends. She was already eyeing off the new paediatric consultant, a young widower. A guy with a child already.

A ready-made family …

Once more his gaze drifted to the water. Jess and Dusty.

Dr Jessica McPherson. He’d looked her up last night. English qualifications. Based in London. Accompanied by her son, Dustin.

Obviously here to combine work and holiday.

If she didn’t have a child he could spend some time with her, he thought. She fitted his date description. Smart, attractive, funny. Returning to the other side of the world in ten days.

Smart, attractive, funny …

He watched her a while longer. Add gorgeous to that description, he decided. The way she laughed … The way she rolled in the sand with her son, totally unselfconscious. Her peal of delicious chuckles.

She had a child, he told himself harshly. He didn’t do children.

And suddenly Nate was there, front and centre.

Nate.

He was in the most beautiful place in the world, in the most comfortable bed with the best view and suddenly the tension inside him was almost to breaking point.

His family was dysfunctional to say the least, but Nate had been his one true thing. Nate, eight years old to his eleven. His adoring little brother. During childhood they’d hardly seen their parents, they’d been raised by nannies, but they’d had each other.

And then something had finally cracked in the social façade that had been his parents’ marriage. They’d woken one morning and it had been over.

‘Ben, darling, you’re coming with me. There’s a lovely school in Australia—I believe it’s even been used by royalty. And Arthur, the nice man I introduced you to last week, is based in Melbourne. We’ll be able to explore together. Your father’s decided he wishes to hold onto Nathaniel. Your bags are being packed now. Say goodbye to your brother. Your father’s gone out for the day—I don’t think he intends to say goodbye to anyone.’

After that … He hadn’t seen Nate for years, and when he had Nate had turned into his father. Blamed him. Vibrated vitriol.

To feel like that again …

No. He didn’t do family.

Outside Jess and Dusty were whooping up the beach, rolling in the soft sand, then lurching about like sand-covered monsters trying to scare each other.

How would she feel if anything happened to her son? How would her little boy feel if he lost his mother?

Don’t go there.

He always did. He always had. Families instilled an automatic dread.

So …

So there was two hours to go before he’d promised to go to the wildlife shelter. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been coerced into the visit but he’d get it over with fast. Meanwhile he could have breakfast and head to the beach. A swim would be great.