Abigail Gordon - Midwives On Call At Christmas - Midwife's Christmas Proposal

She had her own ideas, often contrary to his, on work, on politics, on sport even, but was always willing to listen to another point of view.

He’d rarely enjoyed a conversation so much. He could have driven all day with her beside him instead of doing what he’d come to do. Watch Tara jump out of a plane.

When they arrived Simon followed Tara from his car and almost had to run to keep up. Now, that was what he called eagerness to embrace the experience. He might even be starting to get her interest, even if he didn’t share it.

He’d read the skydiving webpage when he hadn’t been able to sleep last night. It had been intriguing with the way they mentioned ‘changing your life with a jump’, though he couldn’t see how Tara’s life needed changing in that way. She was the most centred person he knew to be around.

Apparently, sky-diving freed you of the minutiae of the everyday that could cloud the joys of living.

Okay, rave on, yet the expression had resonated with him and made him wonder with a startling moment of clarity if that was what he did.

He organised and pre-planned as much as he could, as if he could keep all the facets of his world—in his mind he could picture pregnant Maeve, so that included his sisters—in order and safe from the possibility of harm.

He glanced up as another plane droned overhead into a scatter of puffy clouds in the blue sky. Safe from harm? Well, that went out the window with skydiving. Literally.

Simon shrugged and guessed he could imagine the small stuff didn’t matter when you were hurtling at two hundred kilometres an hour through those clouds before your parachute opened. If it opened. He shuddered and increased his pace.

Inside the flimsy building—how much money did they spend on this operation anyway, and just how safe were they?—Simon’s gaze travelled around suspiciously until he realised what he was doing and pulled himself up. Tara would be saying he could draw bad luck with negative thoughts, and despite his scepticism he refocussed on the woman he’d brought here, and just looking at her made his mind settle.

She was grinning like there was no tomorrow. He jerked his thoughts away from that one as she beckoned him over.

‘Simon?’

Her expression puzzled him—eager, mischievous, with just a touch of wariness. ‘They could squeeze you in if you wanted to change your mind.’

‘And you’re telling me this because?’

Her eyes glowed with excitement and for a minute there he wanted to take her outside this building and back her up against a tree and kiss the living daylights out of her. Then she said, ‘Why don’t you jump with me? Do it spontaneously.’

He blinked. One pleasant picture replaced with another he didn’t fancy. ‘Like spontaneous combustion. One whoosh and I’m gone?’ She was dreaming. ‘Then who would do all the things I do?’

Her voice lowered and she came closer until suddenly there seemed only two of them in the room. ‘Stop thinking about everyone else for a minute. Do it for yourself. Be irresponsible for once and find out what it feels like. Change your life.’

There’s nothing wrong with my life, he thought, but he didn’t say it. Just stared into those emerald-green eyes that burned with the passion of a zealot. The woman was mad. ‘Nope. But thank you. You go ahead and have your instructions for insanity and I will arrange breakfast for afterwards when you land on the beach.’

‘They say it’s the closest you’ll ever get to flying on your own.’

‘I read that.’ He’d actually done a bit of almost-flying when he’d kissed a certain someone the other day. He was barely listening as he soaked in her features. How could he have ever thought this woman was average?

She looked at him for a moment and then leant forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. ‘Okay.’

Then she was gone, leaving an echo of her scent and the softness of her mouth that vibrated quietly in the back of his mind and all the way down to his toes. And a tiny insidious voice poked him with a thought. Imagine if it did change the way you lived. Not his work but his private life.

His lack of trust in relationships. The business of assembling scenarios so he could be sure he had all his bases covered. The worry about minutiae, like it said in the brochure. Possibly left over from the time he’d realised his own father had been totally unaware of him—when he should have checked if he had a son!

No way. He shut the thought down. Not today. But unconsciously, as he leant against the wall and watched her follow the instructions of Lawrence, her ‘chute buddy’ coach, he paid more attention as they prepared her for the way she left the aircraft and the way she had to bend her legs and point her toes as they landed.

He watched her tilt her head back, exposing her gorgeous tanned throat. Apparently that was so when you hurtled out of the plane your head didn’t slam backwards and knock out the person who was going to pull the ripcord. Good choice. Tilt head. He could just imagine her. Wished he could see her do it. He grinned and looked away. No, he didn’t. At least he was calmer than he’d thought he’d be, watching all this.

Simon glanced at the cost of the extravagant packages that could come with the jump and doubted she had enough for the whole experience to be filmed, captured in photographs as well and saved in a bound volume. He wandered discreetly over to the sales desk, enquired, and hoped like hell she wouldn’t mind if he paid for the video/album package to arrive in the mail. He ensured Lawrence switched on his high-definition camera. It was the next best thing to being a fly on the wall without having to actually be there. And she’d have a permanent memento of the event.

She hopefully wouldn’t take it up full time if she loved it. Simon found himself smiling as he drifted back to the doorway, where he leaned while he waited for her to finish her induction.

Then it was time for her to go. Go as in jump.

Tara bounced across the room with her harness all strapped between her legs and over her shoulders. Plastic wind protection goggles sat on top of her head and she radiated suppressed excitement like a beacon in a storm.

The two other people in her group seemed to radiate less exuberant anticipation. Right there with you, buddy, Simon thought with some amusement, and appreciated again that Tara did bring a sparkle into his day. As long as she didn’t want him to join her he was quite happy to stand on the sidelines and enjoy the show.

Tara barely felt her feet on the floor. She couldn’t wait for that moment when they tumbled out. She glanced back at her older instructor who carried the chute that would float them to the ground again and wanted to hug herself with excitement. Or have Simon hug her.

She glanced at Simon, who watched her with a whimsical expression on his face. It was so cool he’d come with her. Even if he didn’t want to jump, and it had been a pretty big spur-of-the-moment ask, he still looked fairly happy. She’d been a little afraid of that. That he’d radiate stress vibes and doomsday foreboding but he’d surprised her with how calmly he was taking it and how supportive he was.

She had an epiphany that maybe real men didn’t have to do crazy things to be in tune with her. Look at her last man. He’d been crazy and had turned out to be a loser of the highest order so maybe the opposite worked.

She knew for a fact that Simon was far from a loser but she also knew she wasn’t looking long term for someone like him. People like him spent their lives with prim and proper doctors’ wives, not someone who wanted to seek thrills and drift from town to town like her. People like Simon hadn’t been brought up in orphanages and foster-homes.