cope with this feeling of desolation? Or of the guilt-ridden feeling that Douglas had let her down somehow by dying? What of the fact that a stranger had been the first man to see Dawn and not Douglas?
Her eyes stung and a tear rolled down her cheek. ‘I don’t want to go to the hospital. Actually, I don’t ever want to go back there. I don’t even want to go back to my house in town, which is ridiculous as I don’t have the energy to organise a clean break. I have no idea how I am ever going to go back to work there.’
She bit her lip and then shook her head. ‘This is not like me. I’m sorry. I have no option. Ignore what I just said.’
The understanding in his green eyes nearly triggered the tears again. ‘Anyone would think you’d had a big morning,’ he said, and the compassion in his voice told her he understood. He really did understand.
Andy slid his arm across the seat and around her shoulder and it was as if he encased her in empathy. Despite the fact that she didn’t know him, it felt good to be hugged. Incredibly good.
‘It must be hard without your husband,’ he said. ‘I felt the same when my wife died.’
He saw she knew his story. Misty would have told her. He hoped she hadn’t told her how he’d almost gone off the rails.
‘It’s harder than anything in the world,’ she said, ‘and sometimes I’m almost angry with him for leaving.’ Montana lifted her face to his. Her eyes shimmered with loss and he remembered that too.
‘I remember that feeling,’ he said.
He squeezed the fine-boned shoulder under his hand and she responded to his understanding and told him.
‘The first of May. It was an aneurysm. There was no warning. Douglas went to bed smiling and never woke up. He was thirty-five and didn’t even know he would be a father.’
Andy didn’t rush in with condolences because when his wife had died he’d hated that. The silence lengthened as they both reflected on their losses.
Finally he said, ‘It was a tragedy. Though he has given you a beautiful daughter and he will live on through her.’
She nodded. ‘I know. But I don’t ever want to hurt like that again.’
Andy sighed. Amen to that. Time was a great healer—he knew that from bitter experience—but the early years were painful and something he’d promised himself he’d never do again. She had to do it with a daily reminder in a child.
It was good he had a direction in life with the hospital now. She needed something like that.
Andy squeezed Montana’s shoulders once more and then let his arm drop. ‘I’ll get your things and put them in my car.’
‘I want to go home. Not to the hospital.’ The pain was stark in her voice.
He’d suspected that was coming. ‘Fine. I’m sure your own personal midwives will arrive as soon as they hear you are home.’
He smiled and Montana found she could smile back. He was right. Of course she didn’t have to go to the hospital. Mia and Misty would make sure she was fine.
CHAPTER TWO
ANDY spent the week of his holidays doing three things.
First, he accumulated extra operating hours as a locum surgeon for the occasional disaster that cropped up at the lake to ensure his skills remained current. You never knew when a casualty would arrive without time for transfer to the base hospital.
Second, he lost no opportunity to promote the idea of transfer to Lyrebird Lake for any health professional who would listen and might be remotely interested in relocating.
The Lake needed staff if it was to move into the new era the mine would bring, and this was a great opportunity to scout for potential colleagues.
Andy had sworn he would do his best to help find staff. If he didn’t, the hospital would be downgraded even further and the funding diverted to the base hospital eighty kilometres away.
That would happen over his dead body.
And the third thing he did was try not to think about Montana Browne.
His was a busman’s holiday that allowed him to catch up with his only sister once a year and not intended for relaxation or dalliance.
Since Montana’s baby had arrived early he’d spent a lot of time in and out of Misty’s friend’s house after work because Misty had taken on the cooking and shopping role for Montana in some pre-arranged, pre-birth deal the girls had going.
The other friend, Mia, had been assigned washing and garden work so Andy had offered to mow the lawns before he left.
He didn’t mind. It gave him a chance to watch Montana, a pastime he suspected he could become captivated by.
Something wasn’t right with Montana today.
It was a typical three-women-and-extra-brother afternoon at Montana’s house and he found it all strangely poignant that it was the last he would be present at.
Misty stroked Dawn’s downy cheek as she whispered to the tiny baby in her arms. ‘You are beautiful. Yes you are.’
Andy heard his sister’s crooning but his attention was on Montana as she rested back in the lounge with the cup of jasmine tea he’d made for her and fielded the barrage of questions Mia seemed obsessed with.
‘You sure you didn’t mean to have Dawn up there in the mountains all the time? You must have known you were going into labour? Didn’t you have a premonition?’
‘No premonition. I leave that to Misty.’ Montana’s quiet voice drifted across to him and he saw her glance at him but she didn’t smile.
Why did he need her to smile? ‘And to Andy,’ she finished, and he savoured the way she said his name.
He should go. Get out of this hens’ party and think about packing to head home. He still had a heap of shopping to do before he flew back tomorrow morning and if he went back to the Lake without the special ingredients Louisa, their housekeeper, had requested, he was a dead man.
He just couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from Montana today—though that was nothing new. The day he’d met her replayed like a favourite movie in his brain.
He could still see her alone in an isolated clearing on the side of a mountain surrounded by mist—a woman as calm and tranquil as a Tibetan monk—after giving birth alone.
She’d declined hospital assessment even though he admitted she had two willing experts in his sister and Mia.
Here in her own home, even with her new baby, he’d never seen her succumb to any sort of anxiety, until now.
He kept remembering how serene she’d been when he’d first arrived to bring her back. That serenity was missing, and he didn’t think it was just the fact that Mia was hounding her again, but maybe it was.
‘Mia, leave her alone.’ Although he said it quietly, his voice cut across the
