Fiona McArthur - Baby for the Midwife

Maybe it was better if Max didn’t love her. Safer for everyone.

They stopped many times along the way north to Queensland. The all-terrain vehicle crawled along hardly used bush trails, showed them great vistas over rainforests and let them enjoy escarpments decked with eagles and graced with tumbling waterfalls that smashed down onto boulders far below.

Lunch was another picnic packed by Mrs White, which they had beside a cold mountain stream, and afternoon tea saw them back on the coast and an hour and a half east of their destination.

They drove through the Lamington National Park three thousand feet up to the rainforest retreat and Max was greeted like a long-lost friend.

The owners, Paddy and Morgan, had even arranged for their daughter, Trish, to sit with Elsa in the room later that evening while Max and Georgia enjoyed their dinner.

The suite Max had secured, instead of the two single rooms she’d expected, made her pause at the door, and Max’s hand rested on the small of her back as he waited for her to say something.

They could see over the canopy of trees from the window but it was the two big canopied beds that dominated her vision.

‘The suite is lovely, but it seems strange they didn’t have two single rooms.’

‘I didn’t ask for singles, Georgia. We’re a family, even though you and I may not sleep together tonight.’ Max met her eyes unswervingly. ‘I thought you’d be more secure if I was right here with you and Elsa.’

When she didn’t answer he went on. ‘Despite last night, you can trust me. As you can see, we have two doubles and there’s a cot for Elsa.’

He shrugged and changed tack. ‘Actually, I did it for myself. The nightmares have been a problem and tonight I’ll have you to protect me.’

Georgia glared at him. She wouldn’t make a fuss. It would be ridiculous after what had passed between them, but she’d thought he’d understood. ‘I hope Elsa keeps you awake all night.’

He shrugged. ‘She’s done that before.’

This wasn’t happening. Last night had been a mistake that she couldn’t regret but had no plans to repeat. ‘Any designs you have on me will not come to fruition, Max.’

‘I’ll have you know that I am saving myself.’ Max averted his face primly.

As if. ‘You’re not a virgin any more, Max.’ Georgia couldn’t help the reluctant grin he’d dragged from her, despite her best efforts to remain cross.

‘That was only my body,’ he said solemnly.

‘You…are…mad.’

‘I’m crazy with it all right,’ he said, and this time no humour lit his face. She was a fool. He really had only thought of her, but before she could apologise for doubting him, Elsa stirred.

‘I’ll see you down in the lobby where the maps are displayed,’ he said, and she filled the silence with movement as Max slipped out the door.

He’d told her to trust him and she’d never had cause to disbelieve him. That was the baggage Sol had left her with, and she wasn’t going to start not trusting Max.

Elsa settled quickly after her feed, and Trish arrived with her own dinner on a plate.

After a brief discussion over what to do if Elsa woke up, Georgia completed her make-up and brushed her hair again. Strangely nervous, she went to meet Max downstairs.

As she came down the stairs the way his gaze travelled over her made her glad that she had spent the extra few minutes on her appearance and her nerves dissipated like smoke from the chimney.

This was Max. Tall, gorgeous Max, with his incredible body and amazing hands and amazing mouth that just thinking about sent waves of colour to her cheeks. Max, her refuge, her husband, even if it was only for a year, and the man who was looking at her as if she were the one person he’d ever wait for.

Max smiled that wonderful smile of his and held out his hand, and when she put her fingers in his she realised how right it had been to get away.

‘Welcome to our first real date,’ he said as the waiter showed them through the doors to a private table in a bay-windowed alcove.

She smiled. After all they’d been through. ‘For first-timers we’ve had our moments of interest together,’ she said, and the thought of last night tingled her skin in a pink glow.

‘That’s no excuse not to catch up on the stuff we missed out on,’ Max said, and she saw the flutes of champagne and laughed.

A long-stemmed red rose lay across her setting and she glanced up at the waiter with a smile. ‘Does everyone get a rose when they come here?’

‘Only those on their first date,’ the waiter said, and smiled. The man pulled out her chair and Georgia sat and looked around at the restaurant as Max chose the wine for the meal.

The room was long, with several bay windows overlooking the valley below that disappeared in the darkening twilight.

A log fire crackled in a central fireplace and added pleasant warmth without overheating the room. Her throat felt warm but she knew the heat was from something else.

Exposed wooden beams crossed the ceiling with relics from the roaring days of the pioneers, but there was nothing rough about the service or the fine china.

The waiter left after ensuring they were happy, and Max raised his glass to hers in a toast. ‘To a tranquil weekend.’

She’d drink to that. ‘Utopia.’ They clinked the delicate crystal and she sighed blissfully. ‘What a gorgeous place. You’ve obviously been here before.’

Max glanced around and his face softened. ‘My aunt loved this restaurant. I used to come here at least once during my holidays with her.’

There was a note in his voice she’d never heard before. ‘Tell me about your childhood and parents.’

He put his glass down and grimaced. ‘Now, that’s a boring story.’

She frowned at him and he held up his hand. ‘But I did say I’d answer questions.’

He smiled whimsically. ‘My father was a worthy man, an excellent surgeon with very little sense of humour, who retired one month before he died of a heart attack.’

Georgia stretched her hand across the table and touched his in sympathy where his fingers lay against the tablecloth. He looked at her briefly and then looked away.

‘My mother now lives in America with her new husband and apparently is reasonably happy.’

It sounded emotionless and she couldn’t help being disappointed by his distance.

‘Try a little harder, Max,’ she said. Though what did she expect when she was the one creating distance all the time?

He sighed laboriously and then went on. ‘My parents had very little in common with each other, or me, but led a very civilised life together. My brother and I spent a lot of years at boarding school.

‘Fortunately, I spent a lot of my holidays with my mother’s sister, who owned the house in Byron, while Paul stayed home and became even more worthy.’

His face softened and his beautiful mouth curved. ‘My Aunt Beatrice I could talk about for hours.’

‘Please, do,’ she said softly, aching for the boy who had obviously been lost in boarding school and at a family that hadn’t known how to love.

Maybe that was why he had chosen Tayla and had such low expectations of marriage.

‘Beatrice was a widow. Her husband died early in their marriage, which was very considerate of him. I’m sure she was happier doing as she liked. She was an Amazon of a woman who adored bright colours with the black she said she wore for mourning.’

He grinned at the memories. ‘She could put colours together. Black and gold stripes, black and emerald spots, black and hot pink, sometimes all of them at once, and always adorned with lots of beads.’

He shook his head. ‘She’d have sunflowers growing in her garden and they were all over the house in vases. She’d sing the blues in this gravelly voice that would raise gooseflesh on my arms.’