A Mother's Secret

She pulled her chair around next to his to look at the information he was pulling up on the computer screen. ‘That’s fine. Just don’t do it again.’ Her voice was firm this time. Much more definite.

And this time he did pay attention. His bright blue eyes met her brown ones, with more than a little surprise in them.

The smile had disappeared from his face, replaced by a straight line. ‘If you say so,’ he murmured.

* * *

It only took an hour or so to familiarise Gemma with the practice systems and introduce her to the two other GPs who worked at the surgery. She seemed to pick things up quickly, only asking a few pertinent questions then going round and introducing herself to the rest of the staff.

The working-hours negotiations were a little more fraught. He’d hoped she’d be a bit more flexible. She needed to cover three days within the practice, but it would have worked out better if she could have worked some mornings and afternoons and actually done her hours over five days.

But Gemma Halliday was an immovable force. She was adamant that three full days was all she could do. No extra surgeries at all. Her time was to be spent with Isla.

They walked over to the Angel Grace Hospital. It was a nice day and the brisk walk did them both good.

‘I’m hoping you’re happy to see everyone who comes into the practice.’

‘Why wouldn’t I be? Isn’t that what GPs do?’ He should have asked her if she had a jacket. The breeze was rippling her pale pink shirt against her breasts, and the unbuttoned collar was flapping in the wind. Boy, she could be prickly.

‘I just thought you might request to see only the kids.’

She shrugged and shook her head. ‘Not at all. Happy to see anyone. If the other partners want me to see more than my share of kids, that’s fine too. Obviously, they’re my specialty. But that doesn’t mean I won’t see other patients.’

‘Good. That’s good.’

‘How much antenatal care do you have?’

He shook his head. ‘Minimal. We have around twenty-five to thirty-five births a year on the island. Our midwife, Edith, generally does all the antenatal care. It’s only if someone is a complicated case that we become involved.’

‘Do the mothers deliver here?’

‘Most deliver on the mainland. Last year we had six home births. All planned with military precision by Edith. A few more requested them, but Edith and the obstetric consultant deemed them too risky. When we have plans for a home birth, both midwives on the island have to be on call. It can get a little complicated.’

They reached the door of the hospital and Logan held it open for her. ‘So what happens in an emergency situation—for anyone, not just maternity cases—and we need to transport someone quickly?’

He led her down one of the corridors of the hospital. ‘That’s when we call in the emergency helicopter from the naval base at Prestwick. Surgical emergencies, unstable head injuries and maternity emergencies would get transported that way. Ayrshire General Hospital is only about ten minutes away once the helicopter gets in the air.’

He opened another door. ‘We do have a theatre that can be used in emergencies, but it’s a bit basic. This is mostly used for minor procedures.’

She looked around the single theatre. She’d already noticed that the hospital was an older building, probably left over from the war. ‘Do you have a lot of emergencies that require the helicopter?’ Even the thought of the helicopter made her nervous.

‘We had ten last year. They are search-and-rescue helicopters. There are three of them and they normally get scrambled every day. They cover a huge area—twelve times the size of Wales—and we only call them out if absolutely necessary. We’ve transported stable patients on the main island ferry before, or we occasionally run a private boat if the ferries schedules are unsuitable, and transport patients to the mainland where we have an ambulance waiting.’

They walked further along the corridor. ‘Oh, and there’s also the hyperbaric chamber over on the Isle of Cumbrae—Millport. It’s one of only four in Scotland and used for anyone with decompression sickness.’

‘You deal with that around here?’ She shook her head. She hadn’t even considered anything like that. And she didn’t know the first thing about decompression sickness.

He nodded slowly. ‘It would surprise you, but we have a lot of diving in and around the island, and along the Scottish coast. But don’t worry, there’s an on-call hyperbaric consultant at Aberdeen Hospital. He’s the expert in all these things.’

They continued along the corridor and Gemma tried not to let the panic on her face show. She really hadn’t realised the realm of expertise that would be required to work in an island community. At this rate she was going to have to go back into student mode and start studying again. They’d reached the single ward in the hospital. Logan pointed through the glass.

‘Sixteen beds, with patients that we normally reassess on a daily basis. It’s kind of like a mix between a medical ward and an elderly care ward. Lots of chest conditions and confusion due to low oxygen saturation. We have good permanent nursing staff that are more than capable of dealing with any emergency. They re-site drips, give IV antibiotics and other meds, order X-rays and can intubate during an arrest.’ He pointed down the corridor.

‘There are also a few side rooms if required and an A and E department that is chaotic during the summer.’

Gemma’s eyes widened a little. ‘How is that staffed?’ His stomach curled a little. This woman could practically see things coming from a million miles away.

‘It has its own doctor, a couple of nurse practitioners and some regular nursing staff.’ He pointed to a rota on the wall. ‘If the A and E doctor isn’t busy, he would deal with any issue with the ward patients. If not, we get called out.’ He could tell from the expression on her face that she was worried. ‘Don’t worry, it doesn’t happen too often.’

She nodded slowly. ‘I knew there would be occasional callouts because I was covering one day a week for the GP practice. I guess I’ll just need to bring Isla with me.’

Darn it. He hadn’t considered her little girl when he’d persuaded her to work three days a week in the GP practice for the next six weeks. Her job as a paediatric consultant two days a week wouldn’t have included any on-call services. He’d only been thinking of the needs of the practice, not the needs of a single parent and her five-year-old daughter. With one step he’d just trebled her chances of being called out.

He smacked his hand on his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Gemma. I hadn’t even considered Isla. We’ll need to have a look at the rota.’

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘There’s not much you can do. It’s only for the next six weeks. I guess I’ll just have to cope.’

But the guilt was gnawing away at him. He hadn’t been entirely truthful as he’d given her the tour. Isla just hadn’t entered into his radar at all.

This was the problem with being a single guy with no other responsibilities. Work was his only real consideration in life. Once he had that covered, he didn’t think about much else. ‘Yeah, well, about that...’

‘What?’ Her eyes had widened, giving him an even better view of just what a warm brown they were. She was much smaller than him, maybe around five feet two or three? The kind of small woman that men like him usually wanted to protect. It was instinctual.

But he had the strangest feeling that Gemma Halliday was the kind of woman that didn’t want to be protected. She was more likely to kick you in the groin than cower in a corner.

‘How about I show you where the canteen is in here?’ He tried to guide her along the corridor. From the look of her small frame, the chances were slim that he could fob her off with coffee and cake but it was worth a try.

* * *

Gemma was suspicious. She could practically see Logan Scott shuffling his feet like some nervous teenager waiting to tell you that they’d smashed the car or broken a window. He’d been quite straightforward up until this point, so she had a pretty good idea she wouldn’t like what he had to say.

She let him guide her down the corridor towards the canteen. Coffee sounded good right about now. The hospital set-up looked fine. It was old, but it was clean and functional. The patients in the ward looked well cared for. The staff around here seemed efficient.

It was obvious she wouldn’t find the latest state-of-the-art technology here but, then again, why would she need it? They had X-ray facilities and an ultrasound scanner. An emergency theatre that she hoped she would never see the inside of, and a way to transport the sickest patients off the island.

Logan pushed open the door in front of them and held it open. It took around two seconds for her senses to be assaulted by the smell of prime-time baking. ‘Wow. What do they make in here?’

He pointed at the counter. ‘Della makes cakes every day. And you can make requests if you find a favourite and want it on a particular day.’

She couldn’t help but smile. ‘And what’s your request?’

His answer was instant. ‘The carrot cake...or the cheese scones...or the strawberry tarts—they’re giant. Not like the ones you would buy elsewhere.’

They’d reached the counter. It was clear that anyone who set foot in here wouldn’t want to leave. Piles of freshly baked scones and crumpets, some tray bakes and a whole array of cakes. Gemma didn’t hesitate, she leaned over and picked up a fruit scone. It was still warm. She could practically taste it already.

‘What kind of coffee?’ Logan was poised at the coffee machine. Gemma pointed at the china mugs he was holding.

‘What, no plastic cups?’

He shook his head in mock disgust. ‘On Arran? Not a chance. Everything is served in china over here.’

‘I’ll have a latte, thanks.’

She waited until he’d filled the two cups and they settled at a table, looking out across the hospital gardens, which were trimmed, neat with lots of colourful flower beds.

Gemma started cutting open her scone and spreading butter and jam. ‘What? Never seen a woman eat before, Logan? Stop gawping.’

He smiled as he started on his carrot cake. ‘You don’t look like the kind of girl that eats cakes.’

There it was again. His directness. Sneaking in when you least expected it. ‘Because I’m small?’

He sipped his cappuccino and wrinkled his nose. It was obvious he was trying to wind her up a little. Playing with her. Obviously hoping to soften her up for what was to come. ‘You’re not small, Gemma. You’re vertically challenged.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

‘Yip.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘That’s my professional opinion.’ His long legs stretched out under the table, brushing next to her own. What was that? That little tremor of something she’d just felt? It had been so long since she’d had time to even have a man on her radar that she didn’t even know how these things worked these days.

His shirt was pale blue, almost like a thin denim, with a few wrinkles around the elbows and open at the collar, revealing some light curling hairs.

She was trying to place who he looked like. But the tiny blond tips of his hair were throwing her. That was it. He needed a captain’s uniform. He looked like that new young guy they’d drafted in for the latest Star Trek movie. If his hair was only the tiniest shade darker he could be a clone.

She took a bite of the scone. Just as she’d suspected. Delicious. She leaned back in her chair. ‘I think I’m just about to put on two stone.’

He smiled. ‘The food here is good. If you have any special requests or dietary issues, just let them know.’

She raised her eyebrow. ‘Dietary issues? Trying to tell me something, Logan?’

He shook his head swiftly. ‘I wouldn’t dare.’

Her eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Okay, then, out with it. You’ve obviously kept the bombshell for last. Hit me with it.’

His eyes drifted away from her and he fixated on something outside. ‘Yeah...about that.’

‘About what?’ Her voice was firm. How bad could this be?

He shifted in his seat. ‘You know how I told you that if A and E is quiet the doctor will cover the ward patients too?’

She nodded. ‘Yes.’ She was feeling very wary of him now.

‘Well, it kind of works both ways.’

She felt the hairs standing up at the back of her neck. ‘What do you mean?’

He stared at her. With those big blue eyes that could be very distracting if you let them.

‘I mean that if the A and E doc gets snowed under, then they usually call us out for some assistance.’ He was visibly cringing as he said the words. Obviously waiting for the fallout.

She ran her tongue along her dry lips. He was worried. And a tiny part of that amused her.

She’d only agreed to help out for six weeks. She would only have a few on-calls. How bad could this be? Maybe she should make him sweat a little. After all, he had been quite presumptuous so far.

She picked up her scone and regarded him carefully. ‘Think carefully before you answer the next question, Logan. I can tell you right now that if you spoil my scone, this could all end in tears.’ She took a little bite. Was he holding his breath? ‘Exactly how many times does the A and E doc call you out?’

Logan shifted again. ‘Well, in the winter, hardly ever. Maybe once every six weeks.’

She knew exactly where this was going. ‘And in the summer?’

He gave a little frown and a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Probably...most nights?’

‘What?’ Her voice had just gone up about three octaves. He had to be joking. ‘Every night?’

His head was giving little nods. No wonder he’d worried about telling her. ‘More or less.’

She put her scone back down on her plate, her appetite instantly forgotten. This was going to be far more complicated than she could possibly have expected.

Logan held up his hands. ‘Look, Gemma. I’m sorry. I hadn’t really taken Isla into the equation. I’m so used to being on my own I didn’t even consider the impact it would have on her. I mean, you are a single parent, aren’t you? You don’t have another half that’s going to appear in the next few weeks?’

There it was again. His presumptions. And was she mistaken or did he sound vaguely happy—as well as apologetic—about the situation?

And why did she care? This guy, with his rolled-up sleeves revealing his tanned arms, was giving her constant distractions.

Like that one. Since when did she notice a man’s tanned arms? Or the blond tips in his hair? Or the fact he might resemble a movie star?

She’d been so focused for the last five years. Every single bit of her pent-up energy had been invested in Isla. In the fight to keep her, and all the hard work that went along with being a single parent, working full-time.

She hadn’t even had time to look in the mirror, let alone look around her and notice any men.

Maybe this was just a reaction to Isla’s out-of-the-blue drawing with the feature boyfriend.

Her stomach gave the strangest flutter. Or maybe this was just a reaction to the big blue eyes, surrounded by little weathered lines, currently staring at her across the table.

She took a deep breath. Were his thoughts really presumptions? He’d helped her unpack. He must have noticed the distinct lack of manly goods about the place.

She nodded her head. She was used to this. She was used to the single-parent question. She’d been fielding it for the last five years. ‘Yes, I’m a single parent, Logan. I hadn’t really expected to be called out at night on a frequent basis. That could cause me a number of problems.’ She was trying not to notice the fact he’d just told her he only had himself to think about.

She was trying to ignore the tiny flutter she’d felt when he’d revealed the possibility he might be unattached. She was trying not to notice the little flicker in her stomach that Logan wasn’t married with a whole family of his own. What on earth was wrong with her?

He lifted his hands. ‘Look, I’m sorry. But I’m desperate. I really need someone at the surgery right now. How about I cover some of your on-calls?’

She bit her lip. ‘That’s hardly fair, is it?’ She couldn’t figure out the wave of strange sensations crowding around her brain. Then something scrambled its way to the front and a smile danced across her face. ‘Don’t you have someone to go home to?’

There. She’d said it.

The quickest way to sort out the weird range of thoughts she was having. He may not wear a wedding ring but he was sure to have another half tucked away somewhere on the island.

Another woman. Simple. The easiest way to dismiss this man.

He smiled and leaned across the table towards her, the hairs on his tanned arm coming into contact with her pale, bare arm. She really needed to get a little sun.

‘You mean, apart from my mother?’ He was teasing her. She could tell by the sexy glint in his eye that he knew exactly why she’d asked the question.

She let out a laugh. ‘Oh, come on. Someone your age doesn’t stay with their mother. You certainly weren’t there when we arrived this morning.’

There was something in the air between them. Everything about this was wrong. He was a colleague. This was a small island.

She was here for a fresh start and some down time.

So why was her heart pitter-pattering against her chest?

It seemed that Arran was about to get very interesting.

CHAPTER THREE

LOGAN RAN HIS fingers through his hair. They’d finally reached a compromise.

He was going to cover as much of the on-call as possible, even though Gemma had been determined to do her share. She was feisty.

And so was her daughter.

He’d nipped back home after lunchtime and found his mother being ordered around by Isla. Granted, it was in a very polite manner—but the little girl clearly took after her mother.

But what had struck him most of all was the expression of joy on his mother’s face. She clearly loved the interactions with the little girl. His father had died ten years ago. Logan had settled back on the island once he’d completed his GP training and bought a house just along the road. His sister Claire had been battling infertility for seven years. And his mother had been patiently knitting and stashing tiny little cardigans in a cupboard in the back bedroom for just as long.

It was a nightmare. The one thing he’d never given much thought to during his medical career. Fertility.

Sure, he understood the science of it. And, of course, he always had empathy for his patients.

But to see the true, devastating effects of unexpected infertility and how it impacted on a family had been brought home to him in the past few years. The highs of being accepted for treatment and at the start of each attempt. The lows and desperation as each failure lessened the likelihood of future success. The slow, progressive withdrawal of his sister, along with the cracks that had subsequently appeared in her marriage.

At times, Logan had no idea how his brother-in-law managed to keep things on an even keel. Claire could be so volatile now. The slightest thing could set her off. The beautiful, healthy, lively young woman had turned into a skeletal, unconfident wreck.

And it affected every one of them.

And now he’d just given his mother a taste of being a grandmother.

It wasn’t as if his mum hadn’t stepped in before. She’d loved little Ben as much as he had and had watched him occasionally as he and Zoe had dated. But the connection with Isla was definitely stronger. Why, he wasn’t sure. But watching them together and hearing the way they spoke to each other made him laugh. It was like a pair of feisty older women, rather than a little girl and his mother. They were definitely kindred spirits.

Was he being unfair? Because his mother currently looked as if she were loving every minute of this. Isla too. And there was no question about the fact that Gemma needed trustworthy childcare.

But what would Claire think if she found out her mother was acting as a surrogate gran? Would it hurt her even more? Because he really couldn’t bear that.

The phone rang on his desk. He picked it up swiftly. ‘Yes?’

‘Logan, we’ve had too many calls for emergency appointments this morning. We’re going to burst at the seams.’

He frowned. ‘Have you scheduled Dr Halliday to see any of the emergency patients?’

‘Well, no. You told us not to. She’s supposed to be doing the house calls this week to try and find her way around the island.’

‘Let’s leave that for next week.’ He couldn’t afford the time needed for Gemma to navigate her way around the outlying farms and crofts that he could find in his sleep. ‘Schedule her for some of the emergency GP surgeries this week, there’s just no way we can do without her.’

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