Single Father: Wife and Mother Wanted

As it stood, she was the only child of parents estranged from any family they’d had. Martin Brown and Rowan Butler. Her family was a tiny unit, even smaller now that her father had passed away.

Three hundred kilometres away, in the comfortable suburbs of Melbourne, this whole venture had seemed simple. But here, on her aunt’s doorstep, it seemed fraught with complexity. Her usual calm detachment deserted her completely, leaving her mouth dry, a sinking sensation in her stomach. The urge to get back in the car and drive away was almost overwhelming.

She shut her eyes. Waiting behind her closed lids was a clear vision of brooding, green eyes beneath a dark gold thatch of hair. Her eyes snapped open. Dr Matt Gardiner.

There was an intensity about him—and her reaction to him—that was unnerving. She’d read the interest in his eyes, seen it turn to curiosity after she’d fumbled with answering his questions.

Her cheeks warmed at the memory of her gauche behaviour. Stupid. He’d even provided a ready answer for her—a holiday. All she’d had to do was say yes. Instead, she’d hesitated and that stark tension had sprung up between them.

‘We hardly ever bite our guests.’

She spun around. A pleasantly plump woman smiled at her from a few feet away.

Her aunt? Caitlin stared, searching the face, the friendly blue-grey eyes.

‘Mrs Mills? I’m Caitlin Butler-Brown,’ she said, pushing the words past the constriction in her throat.

The welcoming smile faltered, replaced by a peculiar, almost stunned look.

Oh, Lord. Was it recognition?

It couldn’t be. Da had said his sister didn’t know he’d even married, let alone that he’d had a child.

Her surname was Butler-Brown, no reason at all for Doreen to associate the hyphenated name with Martin Brown.

And, besides, everyone said she favoured her mother in looks. Except for her eye colour. The silvery grey came straight from Doreen’s brother…Caitlin’s father.

Suffocating panic made her want to retreat, snatch open the door of her car and drive away. Maybe she wasn’t ready for this after all.

‘I—I have a booking.’

‘Oh. A booking. Yes. Of course you do.’ The woman seemed to shake herself mentally. ‘I’m sorry, dear. Come in. Come in. Let’s go around the back. Did you want to bring your bag in now or…?’

‘Er, I might leave it until later.’ If her courage failed her, she could still make that dash for Melbourne.

‘I thought you might have come a bit earlier. Oh, but I expect you’ve been sightseeing.’

‘Mmm, yes. I have.’ That was one way of describing her long morning. She’d found a public bathroom so she could have a wash and change her top. Then lingered over cups of coffee while she’d debated whether she’d continue with her plans or retreat back to Melbourne.

‘You don’t mind using the tradesmen’s entrance, do you? I’ve been gardening. That’s what I was doing when I saw you.’

Now that the woman had started, it seemed as though the sentences gushed out.

‘I’m Doreen Mills.’ She gave a small, embarrassed laugh and her hands fluttered briefly. ‘But you know that. Call me Doreen, of course. We don’t stand on ceremony. I’ve not long taken some muffins out of the oven. I got so involved with the broad beans I nearly burnt them. The muffins, that is, not the beans.’

‘I…see.’ Caitlin bit back an urge to giggle lest it explode into full-blown hysterical laughter. She waited for her aunt to lever off her dirty boots at the step.

‘I’ll show you your room. Then we can have a nice cup of tea.’

The house smelled of the muffins and lavender and lemon polish. Everything was spotless and tidy without seeming intimidating. It was…homey and welcoming. Settled in a way that her family’s houses had never managed, Caitlin realised with a small sense of envy. It beckoned to her but at the same time left her feeling like an outsider, as though she could never quite belong there.

‘I’ll put the jug on, then.’ The flow of words stopped abruptly.

‘Doreen?’ Caitlin frowned. Was her aunt looking a little pinched around the mouth? ‘Are you all right?’

‘Oh, dear, yes. Nothing to worry about. I’d better just…’ Doreen rummaged in a large bag then pulled out a box and shook out a blister packet ‘…take a tablet.’

Caitlin glanced at the label. Glycerol trinitrate. Her stomach swooped on a quick flood of anxiety. Her aunt had a heart condition. ‘You’re having chest pain? How bad is it?’

‘Mild angina, dear. I’ll be right in a minute.’ But Doreen allowed herself to be led over to the table and pushed gently into a chair.

‘Sit here now and we’ll see how you’re feeling.’ Caitlin slipped into the chair beside her hostess. To her critical eye, Doreen’s colour seemed good. Better now, in fact, than it had been outside. ‘Do you want me to call your doctor?’

‘No, no. Heavens no. Silly me. I’ve overdone it in the garden, that’s all. I’ll be good as gold after we’ve had that cuppa.’ Doreen grimaced ruefully, her eyes glinting with affectionate humour. ‘And Matt will just growl at me.’

‘Matt? Your doctor? That wouldn’t be Dr Matt Gardiner, would it?’ An odd sense of inevitability settled over Caitlin.

‘My son. Well, technically my foster-son, of course.’

‘Of course,’ said Caitlin faintly. That would teach her to ignore her earlier shiver of premonition. She wondered what else might be in store.

Doreen made a small grimace, looking resigned. ‘I’ll tell him tonight when he comes home.’

‘Comes home?’ Shock numbed Caitlin’s tongue, making her stumble over the simple words.

‘Yes. He’s—’ Doreen broke off, her head cocked to one side. ‘Oh, dear. I’m not expecting anyone. I wonder if that’s him.’

Caitlin had been vaguely aware of the sound of the crunch of car wheels on gravel. Now a door on the other side of the house banged shut.

‘Him? You mean Matt?’ Her voice wasn’t much more than a squeak. She was still grappling with the idea that he lived here. It was too much to think that he might actually be here. No. She couldn’t meet him again. Not right now. Not without some time to prepare.

‘Yes. He has an uncanny knack of…. Oh, dear. Please don’t say anything about my little episode, will you, Caitlin?’ Doreen shot a guilty look towards the door. ‘He’s had such a dreadful morning, I don’t want to add to his load today.’

‘But—’

‘Mum?’ The rich, deep voice jolted Caitlin to the core.

She swallowed hard, clasping her hands together tightly in her lap to prevent her fingers betraying her internal shudders.

‘We’re in the kitchen.’ Doreen gave Caitlin a conspiratorial smile.

‘Something smells delicious.’ Matt came through into the large kitchen-dining area. The easy smile on his face froze as his whole body seemed to do a double-take. Caitlin’s brain played the scene in slow motion so that it seemed to progress inexorably from frame to frame.

‘You.’ He was obviously having trouble believing his eyes. ‘You’re here.’

‘Yes,’ she managed. She felt barely able to string thoughts together, let alone put them into words to form coherent sentences.

‘Oh, you two have met.’ Doreen sounded intrigued.

‘Yes. At Jim’s accident this morning. This is the Caitlin that Nicky was talking about. She delivered the foal.’ Matt’s disbelieving eyes stayed focussed on her face. Almost as though he expected her to disappear if he looked away.

‘Oh, my. Nicky’s going to be so excited to see you,’ said Doreen.

Caitlin smiled weakly.

‘So staying here was one of those plans you were talking about earlier,’ said Matt.

‘Yes,’ she croaked.

‘Then you’ll be here when I get home later?’

She stared at him. Escape to Melbourne beckoned.

‘Of course she will be, dear,’ said Doreen. ‘She’s booked in for a week.’

‘Bookings can be changed,’ he murmured, his eyes all too knowing. ‘Caitlin?’

She swallowed hard. ‘Yes.’

His mouth moved into a small smile and a spark of humour lit the green eyes. ‘Yes, you’ll be here? Or, yes, bookings can be changed?’

‘Um. Yes. I’ll be here.’ Why did she feel as though she’d committed herself to more than simple accommodation?

‘Good.’ He nodded with satisfaction. ‘Right. I’ll be off, then.’

‘Do you have time for lunch, dear?’ said Doreen.

‘Had some, thanks. I just called in to pick up these files.’ He shifted and for the first time Caitlin noticed he was carrying a wad of papers. ‘I’ll take some of whatever smells so good back to work with me, though.’

‘Muffins. I’ll get you something to put them in.’ Doreen slipped away from the table.

Compelled to break the small ensuing silence, Caitlin asked, ‘How—how did Mr Neilson take the news about not moving the mare and foal?’

‘He accepted it. You must have charmed him.’

‘As long as he doesn’t rush it.’

‘Here you are.’ Doreen was back, holding out a bulging bag.

‘Thanks, Mum.’ He kissed her cheek then looked back at Caitlin. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She hoped the smile she gave him didn’t look as feeble as it felt.

After he’d gone, Doreen sat down again. ‘Thank you so much for being discreet, dear. I feel a bit mean, involving you like that. But fancy it being you who was there to help this morning. I should have put two and two together earlier—Caitlin is an unusual name. But when you introduced yourself…I was so…’ She gave an embarrassed laugh. ‘Well, I’m just a bit muddle-headed today.’

Caitlin bit down on her lip, wondering what her aunt had been going to say. ‘Sure, and don’t we all have those days.’

‘Some of us more than others.’ Doreen smiled, but her eyes were thoughtful. ‘Have you always worked with horses?’

‘Never. I’m a small-animal vet.’ Caitlin raised her voice to speak over the whistling of the kettle. ‘You stay here. I’ll fix the tea.’

‘Oh, but you’re my guest,’ Doreen protested as Caitlin crossed to the kitchen to where all the tea things were laid out.

‘You’ve got it ready, all I’m doing is the kettle,’ said Caitlin, as she reached for the switch. ‘Matt’s practice is in Garrangay, then, is it?’

‘Yes, he took over from Bert Smythe when he retired. Matt’s built the practice up, modernised it,’ said Doreen proudly. ‘Poor old Bert had let things go a bit in his last few years.’

Having poured the boiling water onto the tea-leaves in the pot, Caitlin placed everything onto a tray and carried it across to the table. ‘It must be nice for you, having Matt and Nicky living here with you.’

‘Yes, it is, though, strictly speaking, I live with them, of course,’ said Doreen. ‘Matt bought the place when my husband’s health deteriorated and organised renovations to make things easier for us. After Peter passed away, I was rattling around, wondering what to do with myself. Matt suggested turning it into a bed and breakfast. Milk for you?’

‘Yes, thank you.’ Caitlin accepted the proffered cup. ‘It’s a grand old building.’

‘My great-great-grandfather, William Elijah Brown, built it. He and my great-great-grandmother, Lily, were early pioneers in the district.’ She gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Don’t get me started or I’ll have you looking at all my old photos.’

A sharp quiver ran though Caitlin’s stomach. The man who had built this magnificent place, who had worked and, with his wife, raised a family here, was her ancestor, too. Longing and sadness tempered a feeling of pride.

‘I’d love to see them—the photos.’ A sudden fierce need to put faces to the names pulled at her. And maybe it would lead in to a way to tell Doreen why she was here. ‘I’ve always loved old photos, wondering about the people in them, what their lives were like.’

Doreen fixed her with a quick searching look, which changed to a delighted smile. ‘Well, it just so happens I love showing them off. Let’s take our cuppa into the lounge, shall we?’

Caitlin’s legs felt rubbery as she followed her aunt.

‘I’ve put the best of the best in this album,’ said Doreen, patting the sofa beside her. ‘If you’re really interested in what their lives were like, I’ve got a collection of newspaper articles I can show you some time.’

Doreen flipped through a parade of sepia-toned photos, pointing out an ancestor here and there with an amusing story. The formality of the poses, women in long dresses, men in suits and uniforms, held Caitlin enthralled. If she’d been on her own, she would have taken much longer to look at them.

‘Is this you?’ she said, when they came to a candid photo of a young girl with a woman and toddler taken outside Mill House. The gardens around the house were much simpler and the verandah looked as though it had been enclosed.

‘Yes.’

‘So that’s…’ Caitlin’s throat closed over.

‘Mum and my brother, Marty.’

Caitlin was ambushed by a paralysing breathlessness. The toddler was her father. Her father.

Doreen stroked the photo lightly with a fingertip, her face suddenly etched with grief. Moisture prickled Caitlin’s eyes in sympathy and she had to look away.

Oh, God. How stupid to think that the photographs might have created an opportunity to talk about Martin Brown’s death. Sorrow clogged her throat in a painful ball. No way could she speak about her father’s death right now, even if she’d wanted to. Her own emotions were too raw, too close to the surface. She needed to be better prepared, to have the words ready, practised.

Doreen cleared her throat. ‘Anyway, that’s enough for today.’ She closed the album with a snap. ‘Finish your tea and then I’ll show you your room so you can bring your bags in and get settled.’

‘Oh. But…. Are you sure you’re up to having a guest after your angina attack? I can easily arrange to stay somewhere else.’ She pushed aside her promise to Matt about being at the house when he returned. After all, he hadn’t known about the angina attack when he’d pinned her down about her booking. If Doreen needed to cancel, Caitlin wasn’t going to feel bad about leaving.

‘I wouldn’t hear of it. Please. I’ll be so disappointed if you leave now.’

‘As long as you promise to say if it does get too much,’ said Caitlin, after a small hesitation. Perhaps she could ask Matt if Doreen’s health was strong enough. But that would involve breaking her aunt’s confidence. Her life seemed to be filling with all manner of deceptions.

Doreen clasped her hands together in delight. ‘Wonderful. And why don’t you join us for dinner tonight? It’s just a casserole,’ she said quickly, when Caitlin would have refused. ‘I’ve had it in the slow cooker since this morning so it’s no trouble. None at all.’

‘Thank you, that would be lovely,’ Caitlin said, responding to the apparent underlying plea. Was it real or was she hearing what she wanted to hear? Letting her own yearning for family colour her judgement? After all, Doreen didn’t know she’d just invited her niece to share a meal.

Doreen’s face lit up with pleasure and an answering glow settled in Caitlin’s heart. Matt would probably be there but this time she had the advantage of being able to prepare for their next meeting. She’d be able to handle him and this inconvenient attraction.

She had to…he was a part of her aunt’s life.

Matt puffed out a breath as he stacked the papers on the back seat of his vehicle. He felt like he’d been punched in the gut.

Caitlin was here. In Mill House. In his home.

Not that she was here to see him. With his system starting to settle, he could recognise that she’d been as disturbed as he’d been by the coincidence. In fact, her reaction had been closer to horror.

He’d been so completely thrown that he hadn’t thought of any of the questions that crowded into his mind now. Especially about her strange reaction to his comments when he’d helped her wash her hands earlier. He’d had the feeling that she was hiding something, but he couldn’t imagine what.

He slid into the driver’s seat, the wadded black lump on the passenger’s seat catching his eye. Caitlin’s jacket. He’d completely forgotten about it.

In the end, the chance to return the jacket had arrived with minimal effort on his part.

Always assuming, of course, that Caitlin was still here when he got home.

She’d said she would be.

He hoped she would be.

Mostly.

CHAPTER FIVE

MATT GARDINER.

Caitlin froze on the threshold of the lounge, her fingers tightening around the spine of her book until she was sure something would break. It’d been six hours since he’d walked into the kitchen. Six hours that she’d used to prepare for this meeting. She’d convinced herself she was ready.

But she was so wrong.

What was he doing in this room? Doreen said he and Nicky lived in an apartment upstairs. Shouldn’t he have been tucked safely up there?

But, no, his long body was sprawled in a recliner, head tilted back on the cushioned rest, eyes closed. Dark shadows beneath his eyes made him look oddly vulnerable. The difficult twenty-four hours of routine work and after-hours emergencies that Doreen had described earlier must have caught up with him.

His mouth was slightly curved, the bottom lip invitingly full. Caitlin frowned. She didn’t usually notice these details about men. To be sure, she didn’t want to notice them about this man in particular.

A moment later, his mouth moved. Her eyes followed the tip of his tongue as it made a leisurely pass over his lips, leaving them glistening.

Stifling the need to gulp in air, Caitlin retreated, one painstaking step at a time. But the door, having opened so quietly inwards, gave a tiny protesting squeak at her attempt to shut it slowly. She stopped, her gaze snapping back to Matt.

The brilliant green eyes were open, watching her progress with interest. He smiled slowly, as he levered the recliner into an upright position.

‘Well, well. Caitlin Butler-Brown. We meet again.’ Straightening to his full height, he stretched briefly. The movement made the fabric of his polo shirt hug his leanly muscled torso. His well-worn jeans rode low on narrow hips. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing wayward tufts. ‘Come in.’

‘I didn’t mean to disturb you.’ She clutched the book in front of her, a flimsy defence against his physical appeal.

‘Bit late to worry about that, Caitlin,’ he said cryptically, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

The gleam in his eyes made her feel like succulent prey venturing into a predator’s lair. Instinct made her want to run, but she could find no plausible reason to refuse to enter the room. Especially since that had plainly been her intention before she’d seen him.

‘Can I get you something to drink?’

‘Not for me, no. Thank you.’ The last thing she needed was alcohol. The unfamiliar pull of attraction she felt around him left her feeling skittish and vulnerable. Even the smallest level of intoxication might give her the illusion that she could handle him.

She sent him a cool smile and chose a chair beside the wood-burning heater. Instead of returning to the recliner, he followed her across the room and sank onto the end of the sofa nearest her chair. The arrangement seemed uncomfortably intimate. In her peripheral vision, she could see his long legs stretched out, sock-clad feet pointing towards the flickering warmth of the fire.

‘Mum tells me she had an angina attack while you were here this morning.’

‘She did, yes.’ Thank goodness Doreen had come clean, thought Caitlin. At least that was one deception off her conscience.

‘Thank you.’

‘For what? I didn’t do anything.’ Worse, she had a nagging concern that her arrival might have precipitated the attack. Though there was nothing concrete to confirm her suspicion. ‘She had everything under control.’

‘I know. But I like knowing someone was here with her.’

Caitlin hesitated a moment. ‘Is she well enough to have guests? I’d rather not stay if you think it’ll put her under too much stress.’

‘She manages her condition pretty well.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Besides, I don’t think I’d dare try to stop her running the bed and breakfast now. There’s nothing she enjoys more than a houseful of guests to pamper.’

Guilt made Caitlin’s smile feel strained. She wasn’t just a guest, she was the bearer of bad tidings. Why had her father turned his back on his sister and this wonderful ancestral home for more than half a lifetime? He’d swapped the certainty of belonging for a nomadic life with her mother.

And yet, in the last days of his illness, it was this place and his sister that his thoughts had returned to—family that he’d left behind all those years ago. Would Doreen want to know the news that her younger brother was dead? Was she even well enough to handle it? No possibility now of reconciliation.

‘So you staying here is a happy coincidence, isn’t it?’ Matt’s voice rumbled into her musing.

‘A happy coincidence?’ she said blankly, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation. His comment, coming on the heels of her thoughts, jolted her badly. ‘I—I’m sorry. What were you saying?’

Was he toying with her? Did he suspect there was more to her visit?

‘I was wondering how I’d be able to track you down.’

‘Why—why would you want to do that?’

There was a small, charged silence.

‘I have something you’ll want.’ Laughter and something warmer lurked in his eyes as he leaned on the arm of the sofa and watched her.

Flirting. There was nothing sinister going on. He was just flirting with her, and her conscience had imbued his words with deeper overtones.

Just flirting? she mocked herself silently. A pulse thumped frantically in her throat and it was all she could do not to put a protective hand up to cover it.

‘Is that so?’ She swallowed, willing herself to relax. ‘I can’t imagine what it might be.’

‘You can’t imagine…anything?’ His mouth tilted into a small teasing smile. ‘I’m stricken.’

‘Sure, and don’t you look it,’ she said, struggling to keep her expression bland.

‘Perhaps if you tried harder, something might come to mind.’

‘Matt, could you—?’ Doreen’s head appeared around the door. ‘Oh, Caitlin. Sorry, dear, I didn’t realise you were in here as well.’ The older woman looked from one to the other and back again.

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