Fiona McArthur - Midwives On Call At Christmas

They stood silently, watching the bush where it had disappeared, but it had gone. Job done. Simon looked amused and then strangely thoughtful. ‘You know what this means?’ Simon said quietly.

He watched her with an expression she didn’t understand and she searched his face. Then remembered what he’d said weeks ago when he’d first arrived. But she wasn’t saying that.

Simon sounded more spooked than excited. ‘It’s a sign.’ He tilted his head. ‘Which I didn’t believe in before, I admit.’ Then he shrugged and said lightly, as if sharing a joke, ‘We must be meant for each other.’

She stared at him—couldn’t believe that. More goose-bumps covered her arms at the thought. She and Simon? For ever? Nope. Couldn’t happen. ‘Or there’s a gorgeous female lyrebird behind us that we can’t see.’

He smiled but she had the feeling he was glad she’d poo-pooed it too. ‘Could be that as well.’

Then he pulled her closer in his arms until they squeezed together and with the magic of the moment and the dusk slowly dimming into night, he kissed her and she kissed him back, and the magic settled over them like a gossamer cloud, but it wasn’t quite the same, Simon wasn’t quite the same, and when it was the moment that balanced between losing themselves or pulling back it was Simon who pulled back.

If she wasn’t mistaken, there was look of poorly disguised anxiety on his face.

IN THE LAST glow of the dimming evening the motorbike’s engine thrummed beneath them and Simon held onto Tara on the way back to the lake. A single beam of light swept the roadside and the rest was darkness, a bit like the bottom of the deepening hole of dread inside him. That had been too close. He wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Sharing a lyrebird was for those who knew what they were doing.

Thank goodness she’d had the presence of mind to see his sudden distance because suddenly he hadn’t been sure he really wanted to step off the edge with Tara. When had it become more serious than he’d intended? Did she really feel the same and if she did could he trust himself to be everything she thought he was?

On the mountain, at the end, it had been Tara who had agreed they should go, agreed when Simon had said he was worried about hitting wildlife in the dark. But, despite the peculiar visions of lyrebirds scattering in the headlights, the real reason had been that he wasn’t sure he was as heart-whole as he had been any more. In fact, he’d had a sudden onset of the heebie-jeebies about just how deep he was getting in here, and none of this was in his plans—or his belief system.

And then Tara had agreed so easily that now, contrarily, he’d decided she didn’t feel secure either.

But earlier, standing with her in his arms, losing himself in the generosity that was Tara, despite her fierce independence, he’d almost believed the sudden vision that he could hold this woman for the rest of his days.

But what if he broke her heart for ever if he had to move on?

Like his mum had moved on from his dad. Like Maeve’s man, and his ex-friend, had moved on from them. The problem was that since the lyrebird, just an hour ago, Simon felt connected to Tara by a terrifying concept he hadn’t expected but which was proving stronger than he had felt with anyone in his world. And he wasn’t sure he liked it.

She made him feel larger than life, which he wasn’t, exuberant when he hadn’t thought he had an exuberant bone in his body. She made him want to experience the adventure of the world. And with Tara it would be an adventure. A quest towards the kind of life he had only dreamt of having for himself.

Except it wasn’t him.

He wasn’t quite sure who she was seeing in him but it wasn’t Simon Campbell. He needed to get a little distance back while he worked through this.

Because he wasn’t the adventurous, fun guy Tara needed. She needed someone to jump out of planes with, fall head over heels in love with her, and be there for the next month, the next year, the next lifetime. He couldn’t be sure he could sign up for that.

She deserved someone who would do that. So why did he have the feeling there was a great cloud of foreboding hanging over his head?

Next morning at breakfast Maeve wandered into the kitchen and ducked under a Christmas streamer before she sat down. ‘What’s wrong with Simon?’ She absently scratched her tummy and inclined her head back towards the bathroom her brother had just disappeared into.

The door slammed and Tara winced. ‘No idea. He’s been acting strange since we came back from the picnic last night.’ Maybe he was always like this and she’d been too blinded by his pretty face.

Or she’d said something that made him realise she was the last woman he wanted to get involved with. Suck it up, princess, you know this happens to you all the time. ‘Is he usually moody?’

‘Nope.’ Maeve shook her head. ‘He’s the most even-tempered of all of us. The only time he gets techy is if he’s worried about something big.’

Did she qualify for big? Did he think she was trying to trap him? Cringe. Cringe.

Lord, no. She’d never do that. She’d been told often enough by Matron to push herself out there and be a little more demanding but it just wasn’t in her make-up. If the family hadn’t seen how badly she’d wanted their life, she hadn’t been about to tell them and get knocked back for her pains.

She guessed Simon was that all over again. ‘He’ll get over it.’ And her. Already had, it seemed. It was probably all in her imagination anyway and he had just been amusing himself.

Well, problem was there was so much to admire about him, and he seemed to enjoy her company, plus he was a darned good kisser, and she’d practically thrown herself at him last night and he’d knocked her offer back, and that had left them in an awkward place, now that she thought about it. Thanks very much, Simon.

Time to change the subject. And the focus of her life. ‘So how are you going, Maeve?’

Simon’s sister shrugged. ‘I’m fine. Feeling less nauseous and much heavier around the middle.’ She sent Tara one of the most relaxed smiles Tara had seen from her. ‘But I’d rather talk about you two.’

Darn! Lulled into a false sense of security. ‘There’s no “us two”.’

Maeve raised her brows disbelievingly and Tara wanted to bury her head in her hands. Seriously. How many other people thought she’d fallen for Simon? Or he for her? Just because they’d hung out together a bit, and kissed a few times, that smug voice inside insisted.

Maeve wasn’t having any of that apparently. ‘Well, if there’s not a “you two” he’s been pretty hopeless at getting the message across. What with parachuting photo packages, and pestering you for a bike ride, and Louisa for a picnic hamper—and the rug! ‘

Lots of eyebrow waggling coming her way here and Tara could feel the heat creep up her cheeks. So this was what it was like to have a sister.

Obviously Maeve had no scruples in laying stuff out in front of her and teasing. Maybe she hadn’t been so unlucky as an orphan to avoid this stuff. Apart from Mick’s sister, she’d never really been one for girly relationships. Again the idea of becoming fond of someone when you never knew when they’d go away for a weekend and never come back. She’d decided a long time ago it was better to keep her distance.

But Maeve wasn’t keeping her distance, neither had she finished. ‘Seems a lot of effort for someone he doesn’t care about.’

Tara had no idea how to deal with this. With her acquaintances she’d just tell them to shut up but you couldn’t do that to Maeve—or she didn’t think it would work anyway. ‘Can we change the subject?’