A Familiar Stranger

‘Fine,’ she told him, annoyed with herself because her voice was breathless and thready. What a fool!

‘Let’s go, then.’

She felt the firm, warm pressure of his hand against the small of her back as he ushered her out of the door and down to the street, but just when she was ready to protest they had crossed the road and his hand fell away.

She felt the loss of contact right down to her socks. Damn you, Finn, she thought. Why can’t I get over you?

‘Come on,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m starving, and they’ve got venison casserole on the menu. I’d hate them to sell out.’

‘Always your stomach,’ Finn grumbled gently, but he let her lead the way, and for most of the meal she managed to stall the inevitable confrontation. In fact, for a while, she even thought she’d imagined there was a confrontation coming up.

She hadn’t. Finn asked for their coffee on a tray and took it outside, led Janna to a bench under the old horse-chestnut tree and turned to her as soon as they were seated.

‘We’ve got a problem, Janna, haven’t we?’ he said without preamble, handing her a cup of coffee. ‘I hoped we’d be able to work together well, but you don’t seem very happy to see me. I don’t know why you’ve been avoiding me, but clearly you’ve got your reasons. Do they mean we can’t work together now?’

She stared blankly at the swirl of cream circling slowly on the dark coffee. The prospect of losing him again suddenly overwhelmed her, and her hand trembled. ‘Of course we can work together, Finn,’ she said quickly. ‘We’re both adults. We’re capable of being sensible. I’m sure we’ll be fine.’

But her cup rattled betrayingly against the saucer and she put it down sharply, folding her hands together in her lap to steady them.

Finn reached out his hand and covered them, his thumb idly caressing the inside of one wrist. ‘I’m sorry if my coming back has messed things up for you, Janna. I didn’t intend to stir up old hurts or interfere with new relationships. I thought we were still friends.’

Janna couldn’t look away, transfixed by the searching, gentle eyes that she loved so much. She felt her own eyes welling, and blinked hard to stop them. ‘Of course we’re still friends,’ she whispered, and then his face blurred and she closed her eyes.

‘Ach, Janna,’ he groaned, and pulled her gently into his arms, folding her against his chest and cupping the back of her head with one large, comforting hand.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she mumbled into his jacket.

‘I’ve missed you, too, Janna,’ he replied softly, and she wondered if she’d really heard the wistful tone in his voice, or if her desperate heart had simply imagined it …

After that things were easier. Finn didn’t try to kiss her again, and in fact he seemed to go out of his way not to crowd her.

Perversely, she found herself missing it, and wished he wasn’t being so gentlemanly and reasonable. It was, however, wonderful to spend time with him again, albeit sporadically. He was very busy, and they only met on Monday morning, Wednesday morning and Friday afternoon at his surgeries. Otherwise she only spoke to him on the phone if she had a worry about a patient, and although she was busy she found the hours spent in the car between patients left her altogether too much time to dream.

Lindsay Baird was worrying her, and she spent a long time on the phone to Finn on the Monday evening of his second week, discussing her case history and how they could best manage her labour should the need arise. Janna was growing more certain that it would be necessary to manage her labour, because the woman was quite steadfast in her refusal to go to hospital.

‘Lay it on the line,’ Finn told her.

‘I have.’

He sighed. ‘Have you got any midwifely textbooks that show obstructed labour and describe the consequences?’

‘Finn, don’t you think that’s a bit drastic?’ Janna reasoned.

‘We’ve got to do something if she steadfastly refuses to see sense. I’ll come over and visit her tomorrow. Maybe she’ll listen to me.’

‘She wouldn’t listen to MacWhirter.’

‘He’s too nice. I won’t be.’

Janna sighed. ‘Finn, don’t frighten her unnecessarily.’

‘Janna, someone has to. It might as well be me. She can’t have the babe at home.’

However, by the time he got to see her on Tuesday, after his surgery at Glenmorriston, Lindsay’s labour was already established.

Finn returned to the house and reported to Janna, and they sat in her kitchen over a cup of tea and discussed where to go from there.

‘What stage is she at?’ Janna asked, watching Finn toying with a biscuit.

‘Dilating steadily—about four centimetres when I was there—and I don’t think she had any intention of calling you until it was too late to do anything. Regardless, she’s quite determined not to go to hospital. She threatened to sue me if I called the ambulance.’

‘And you listened?’

He grinned. ‘I always listen when people talk about suing me!’ The grin faded, and he reached for another biscuit, snapping it in half and dunking it in his tea thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know, Janna, she’s not due for two weeks, and the baby’s head doesn’t seem that big. I’m almost tempted to let her try.’

‘Finn!’

‘I know, but maybe she’s right, Janna. She’s much more relaxed and comfortable at home, and with proper management and support she might well be fine.’

‘And if she’s not?’

He shrugged. ‘It’s academic, because the damn girl won’t go in, anyway. And, whatever we think, it’s her decision. We can only advise.’

Janna sighed. ‘What does Fergus think now?’

Finn laughed. ‘He’s talking about how he’s going to spend the life insurance.’

Janna was scandalised. ‘How can you both joke about it, Finn? She could die—certainly the baby could!’

‘Aye, well, perhaps. But I think it’s unlikely. I’m sure we’d get her in before that if we could really convince her there was a problem.’

Janna rolled her eyes. ‘Brilliant.’

He grinned again, that wicked grin she had fallen in love with at the age of two or thereabouts—probably younger. Think of it as a challenge,’ he said cheerfully. ‘How’s your midwifery?’

‘Fine, as far as it goes, but I’m not Jesus. There’s a limit to my talents.’

His big hand came across the table and cupped hers reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, Janna, she’ll be fine. We’ll get her through.’

Six hours later Janna was beginning to doubt Finn’s confidence and her own sanity. Lindsay was struggling, Fergus was frantic, and Janna was worried to death.

Finn, on the other hand, was quietly encouraging, and still taking a positive attitude in the face of Lindsay’s stubborn determination.

‘I can do it—I know I can,’ she muttered, but the pain and effort were beginning to exhaust her.

Janna was worried because the pressure of the baby’s head was causing bruising and soft tissue swelling, which was only serving to obstruct her labour further.

She took Finn on one side.

‘That baby has to come out soon or it won’t come out at all! She’s not going to manage without forceps, Finn.’

‘Yes, she will,’ he said calmly. ‘We’ll get her up and moving again.’

‘Finn, she’s beyond that,’ Janna reasoned.

‘No. The baby’s not distressed yet, and Lindsay’s still determined. We’ll have that baby out in less than half an hour, Janna, I promise.’

‘And if you don’t?’

‘I’ll use the forceps.’

Their eyes locked. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, like a wild fawn he had nursed one spring, Janna felt her tension ease. She could trust him. More importantly, Lindsay could trust him. He would never do anything to harm her.

Janna nodded. ‘OK,’ she agreed, and together they went back into the bedroom. Lindsay was dozing and Fergus was sitting on the edge of the bed holding her hand, his eyes closed. As they approached he lifted his head and looked at them.

‘Well?’

‘We need to get her up, Fergus. She’s not going to get anywhere like that,’ Finn told him.

‘She’s exhausted.’

‘She’ll do. Lindsay?’

Her eyelids fluttered and she looked blearily at Finn. ‘Come back tomorrow,’ she slurred. ‘Too tired now.’

‘No, you’re not. Come on, I want you walking around.’

‘Can’t,’ she mumbled.

Finn didn’t bother to argue. He pulled back the covers, slipped an arm round her waist and hauled her to her feet.

‘Finn, no,’ she moaned, sagging back.

‘Do you want the forceps or the helicopter?’ he threatened gently.

She bit her lip, straightened her legs and stood up again. ‘I’ll walk,’ she said, and, leaning her weight on him and Janna, she trailed slowly up and down the bedroom, pausing after a few moments for a contraction.

‘I want to push,’ she told him.

‘Not yet. Come on, let gravity help you.’

‘I can’t!’ she cried out, reaching for her husband, and he put his arms round her and glared at Finn.

‘Let her lie down!’

‘No,’ Finn said calmly. ‘She has to stand and keep moving as long as possible. We could do with some encouragement, Fergus,’ he added, the gentle admonishment bringing a slight flush to his old friend’s cheeks.

Still, it did the trick. Fergus encouraged, Finn and Janna supported, and together they walked her round and round through several more contractions.

Then Janna knelt on the floor and examined Lindsay, who was finding walking difficult by now because the head, against all odds, was finally descending.

Unfortunately the baby’s heartbeat was also dropping with each contraction, and only picking up to a limited extent afterwards. That worried Janna, and she met Finn’s eyes with a troubled look.

‘We need to move a bit quicker,’ she said economically. ‘The head’s well down now, but she’ll have to hang and squat to get the maximum pelvic capacity,’ Janna told him, and so they led her back to the bed, sat Fergus on the side, with Lindsay facing him between his legs and hanging round his neck, and together Finn and Janna directed her pushing and breathing until the baby’s head was crowning at the entrance to the birth canal. Please, God, let us be in time, Janna prayed.

The perineal skin, already damaged by the two previous difficult deliveries, was beginning to look hopelessly overstretched, but still it held, delaying the birth.

‘Do you want the scissors?’ Janna asked Finn softly, but he shook his head.

‘No.’

‘She’ll tear,’ Janna warned in an undertone.

‘Quite likely,’ Finn said calmly, but there wasn’t time to wait and do a nice, tidy episiotomy with the scissors. Using his big fingers to brace her perineum, he waited for the next contraction, ordered Lindsay to push gently with her mouth open, to soften the power of the push, and caught the baby’s head with his other hand, rendering Janna not only redundant but speechless.

Not only had Lindsay not needed forceps, but she wouldn’t need stitches either, and the baby, if the yelling was anything to go by, was fine.

Her eyes prickling, Janna supported the baby as Finn turned Lindsay and sat her on the floor between Fergus’s feet, and then she handed the little girl to her exhausted but ecstatic mother. She held the baby to her breast, and immediately the crying stopped, replaced by the steady, rhythmic sound of suckling.

‘I said I could do it,’ Lindsay told them victoriously, and Finn, the tension gone, sat back on his heels and sighed.

‘Don’t ever—ever!—pull a stunt like that again, Lindsay,’ Finn warned. ‘You came that close to losing her.’ He held up his finger and thumb a fraction apart, and Fergus shuddered.

‘Don’t. Lindsay, you are a stubborn, stupid woman, and I’m having a vasectomy as soon as I can get one.’

‘Oh, you’re only cross because you don’t get to spend the life insurance,’ she teased, but her eyes were misted and so were his.

Finn shook his head. ‘Daft, both of you. Right, Lindsay, let’s get you on the bed, get this placenta delivered and then tidy you up. I’ve got twenty miles to drive before I can go to bed, and it’s already after midnight.’

In fact, by the time they were able to leave the Bairds it was nearly two, and Janna, thinking purely practically, found herself suggesting on the way home that he should stay the rest of the night with her.

‘After all, you’ve got a surgery here in the morning, so it seems silly to go all that way, especially as the calls are being transferred to my house anyway.’

‘Are you sure it’s a good idea?’ Finn asked her.

She wasn’t, not at all, but the offer was out now and it seemed silly to try and retract it.

‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ she said. ‘It’s too late to drive back now—what a waste of time.’

‘I was thinking of your reputation,’ he told her quietly.

‘Oh, stuff. We’re professionals. Anyway, nothing’s going to happen.’

His smile was wry. ‘We know that, Janna, but what about the busybodies in the village?’

‘They’re asleep—or they should be. Don’t worry.’

He was silent until they were in the house, then he turned to her again as she hurried across the hall with an armful of sheets, heading for the stairs. ‘Janna, are you sure about this? I don’t want to compromise you.’

She laughed. ‘Finn, where you’re concerned there’s nothing left to compromise. Of course I’m sure.’

He followed her into the spare room, his brows crawling together in a frown. ‘What are you talking about? We never did anything that would damage your reputation.’

‘No?’ She laughed again, flapping out a sheet and spreading it over the mattress of her spare bed. ‘What about poaching MacWhirter’s salmon trout? And riding down into Port Mackie on the crossbar of your bike at about thirty miles an hour and crashing into Mrs Cameron’s front garden when your brakes failed? And what about the time MacPhee caught us all skinny-dipping at Camas Ciuicharan?’

‘All of those little stunts were your idea!’

‘So? You were with me. Everyone thinks you led me astray!’

He threw her that devastating grin across the bed, his shadowed cheek dimpling with mischief. ‘OK, OK, your reputation’s in shreds. I’m sorry. As it’s clearly too late to worry, yes, please, I will take you up on your offer.’

He smoothed the sheet, tucked it in and took the quilt from her, threading it deftly into the cover while she dealt with the pillowcases.

‘Cup of tea?’ she offered, patting the pillows straight.

He shook his head. ‘No, thanks. I really am dead tired. If you don’t mind, I’ll turn in now.’

‘I’ll get you a towel,’ she said, and hurried past him, ignoring the urge to put her arms round him and thank him for saving Lindsay’s baby.

Moments later she returned with a towel, a clean flannel and a new toothbrush. ‘Here.’

He took them from her, his manner quietly courteous but dismissive, and with a muttered goodnight she left him and went to her room, closing the door and shutting it firmly behind her.

What did she want, for goodness’ sake? Was she expecting him to drag her into bed and make love to her?

A sudden stab of need caught her by surprise, and she sat at her dressing-table, yanking out hairpins and brushing her dark hair out over her shoulders while she glared at her reflection. Her eyes, usually greeny-grey, looked back at her like exhausted smudges in her pale face. No wonder he hadn’t dragged her to bed, looking like that.

Smacking the brush down on the dressing-table, she pulled off her clothes, tugged her dressing-gown on and belted it firmly, then went to the bathroom. She washed quickly, scrubbing her teeth and dragging a hot flannel over her face, before opening the door and walking smack into Finn’s chest.

She stepped back, an apology on her lips, and found herself staringly longingly at the broad expanse of warm, silky skin lightly dusted with soft curls between the open edges of his shirt. She’d seen it before, a million times, so why was she so fascinated by the way the hair changed direction and made that little whorl just over the flat, copper nub of his left nipple? Or by the silken texture of his skin, gilded by the light from the bathroom that streamed over her shoulder and touched him with gold? Or by the way the hair arrowed down, a fine line of soft, dark down that disappeared so intriguingly——

She yanked her eyes up and they locked with his, and for an endless moment they stood there, trapped in the silence of the night, conscious only of the empty house and the beating of their hearts.

Then with a muttered apology Finn stood back and let her pass, and she fled to her room, her heart hammering, the blood roaring in her veins, and her whole body quivering with a need she didn’t dare to name.

CHAPTER THREE

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

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