The Single Dad's Marriage Wish (Bachelor Dads) (9 page)

And it
had
been right to come down to the stables Hamish realised later, much later, when Bailey had had a thirty-second sit on Scottie’s back and was now racing around on his tricycle, waving and beeping his horn to a very unfazed Scottie and Fitz each time he passed.

Hard, but right.

‘Did you used to ride a lot? Before what happened with Emma, I mean?’

He was getting used to Charlotte’s direct questions and this time he didn’t really hesitate before answering.

‘A bit.’ Hamish nodded. ‘I didn’t really have anything to do with them till Emma came along—she was horse mad from the day she was born, I think. I’m not really the most horsy person.’

‘He takes after Emma, then.’ Charlotte nodded over at Bailey and never could she have known just how sweet those words were to hear.

‘I guess he does. What about you—how old were you when you started riding?’

‘Eight and absolutely petrified.’

‘Did your parents make you?’

‘Heavens no.’ Charlotte gave a little giggle. ‘My mum refused to get out of the car when she dropped me
off for my lesson—worried she might get a bit of mud on her stilettos probably.’

‘So how come you took it up?’

The bluest eyes in the world stared back at him, words for once not tumbling out. Instead, she lay back on the grass, stared up at the sky, her voice slightly pensive when it finally came. ‘I just did.’

He stared at her for the longest time—and then over at Bailey. He split about a hundred pieces of grass into two with his thumbnail as that old feeling came back again—only stronger this time. Stronger and surer, and nothing he could say to himself could convince him otherwise. So she had strange dress sense at times, so she was ditzy and crazy and more often than not said the most inappropriate things—but she made him happy.

He stared around at his home, at his son, at his
life
—saw how much it had changed in the short time she’d been there, recognised now the feeling he’d had at the bottom of the stairs, a feeling that had been missing in his life for too long now.

Happiness.

‘Tonight…’ Hamish cleared his throat ‘…once Bailey’s in bed, there’s a nice curry house nearby. They deliver—’

‘Sounds fab,’ Charlotte interrupted, ‘but I’m actually going out dancing tonight.’

‘Dancing?’

‘Come!’ she offered easily. ‘We’ll have fun. Maybe Belinda could look after Bailey.’

‘Better not!’ Hamish answered. ‘I think she needs a bit of a break.’ He tried to sound as casual as she was,
tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter that she’d rather go out dancing on Saturday night with friends than stay in and share a take-away with a single father.

Only it did.

‘I’
M JUST
going to check on the boys in the stable!’ Charlotte grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. Semi conscious, lying on the couch with a throw rug over him and all the chaos that a teething toddler created in the small hours surrounding him, Hamish was tempted to tell her to put more clothes on. She was in that bloody nighty and gumboots again, but, Hamish realised with a sigh, given it was seven in the morning, she had topped it with a massive old anorak. Truth be known, apart from her face, there was barely an inch of flesh showing—it was his imagination that was the problem! ‘I saw you lying here when I got in last night. I hope I didn’t wake you.’

‘Only Bailey,’ Hamish said, then regretted it. It wasn’t her fault he was crazy about her, it wasn’t her fault he’d missed her all night, jealous as hell and hating the lucky guy she was no doubt dancing with, it wasn’t her fault that he was as grumpy as hell this morning.

‘Did you get any real sleep at all?’ Charlotte asked as she breezed over.

‘What’s that?’ Hamish quipped.

‘Oh, just something we lucky singles do!’

Leaning forward, she smothered a
nearly-finally-a-bloody-sleep-again
Bailey, who was lying on his chest, in a flurry of butterfly kisses, wafting her glorious fragrance and—Hamish wasn’t sure if it was better or worse—unwittingly giving him a very good view of her left breast, causing Hamish to raise the throw rug a few generous inches higher. ‘Are those lovely new teeth making Bailey’s mouth sore?’ Charlotte crooned as Bailey started to giggle.

‘Do you mind?’ Hamish snapped, wishing she’d get her luscious-looking breasts out of his face, wishing Bailey could somehow be magically transported to his cot and that it was just him she was leaning over and teasing with kisses…and wishing his erection would subside. ‘He was nearly asleep!’

‘Misery!’ Charlotte grinned, unfortunately standing up and sticking out a pink tongue at him she waltzed out the door.

‘Dar-dot!’ Bailey sighed dreamily, finally deciding to sleep now that it was time to get up. Placing him in his cot, Hamish wondered whether to crawl into bed himself and grab a few hours or just plough on…

‘Hamish!’ He didn’t know what he heard first, the crash of the kitchen door as it was pushed open loudly or Charlotte’s urgent summons for help, but he took the staircase in two, maybe three strides. Colliding with her in the kitchen, his first instinct was to take her trembling hands.

‘It’s Sc-Scottie…’ She stumbled the words out. ‘I need you to get me a vet.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Just call the vet!’

The home number of the vet was on speed dial—had been for years—one of those pieces of his old life that he hadn’t yet found the heart to erase, and Hamish apologized to Nick’s sleepy wife as she handed her husband the phone while Hamish ran to the stables.

‘Can you come over soon, Nick?’

He had no idea what was wrong, but he knew from Charlotte’s expression it was urgent. ‘I’ve got an old pony here…’

Hamish stepped into the stable, entered a space he hadn’t been in since Emma’s death, and surprisingly she wasn’t on his mind.

Instead, sick to the stomach at what surely lay ahead, he watched as Charlotte sank to her knees and buried her head in old Scottie’s worried, pain-riddled face where he lay on the floor. Hamish took over, grabbing a blanket and covering him, doing what little he could to make him comfortable till help arrived…and trying to support Charlotte.

‘The vet will be here soon.’

‘Is he good?’

‘He’s great. His name is Nick—Emma swore by him.’

‘Did you tell him it was serious?’

‘He’ll be here any moment.’ God, he hoped she wasn’t praying for a miracle here, Hamish thought as Charlotte closed her eyes and cuddled Scottie tighter, hoped to hell that Nick would get there soon.

He did, though it felt like for ever. As for Hamish,
there wasn’t a single thing he could do. All she’d asked from him was a vet—and he’d delivered. But as she knelt holding her pet, though Hamish was more than used to dealing with distraught people, when it came to Charlotte he didn’t have a clue, felt superfluous almost as he stood there. She wasn’t talking so he couldn’t answer, she wasn’t crying so he couldn’t put out a hand to comfort her—she was like this little self-contained package on which he couldn’t impinge.

Nick dealt with her well, though, and, Hamish decided, residents could learn a lot from vets.

There was no way animals could communicate, nothing to go on bar knowledge and instinct, and Nick had them in spades.

‘He’s got a lovely nature.’ Examining the old boy well, expecting a bite or a kick, when he got neither all he could do was give a sad smile. ‘Was he your first pony?’

‘No.’ Charlotte didn’t look up, her head buried in Scottie’s neck. ‘I had Patch and then Nutmeg and then Scottie—he was an RDA horse.’

Hamish frowned as he tried to place the abbreviation, but Nick got it in an instant. ‘Riding for the disabled—no wonder he’s such a sweetie. What happened here Charlotte?’He ran his finger along a scar on Scottie’s abdomen. ‘It looks fairly new.’

‘Cancer!’ Charlotte said through shivering teeth. ‘In his colon. He had surgery last year—just for comfort—but he’s done well, he even put on a bit of weight in the last few months. Do you think he’s had a heart attack?’

Nick ran his stethoscope along the bloated stomach,
soothing and talking to the suffering animal as he did so.

‘I’m not sure…’ Nick admitted, hesitating before he broke the inevitable news, but Charlotte got there first.

‘Don’t shoot him!’ For a second the two men looked at each other. There was no way this horse deserved a battery of tests before the inevitable end, but they soon realised they’d misinterpreted her: that it wasn’t a question of prolonging his life, just rather more gently ending it. Standing up, dusting straw down from her nightdress, she ran a hand through her hair. ‘Do what you have to do, but I don’t want you to shoot him.’

‘I won’t. I’ll anaesthetise him. Do you want to stay with him?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Would you like us to give you a moment to say goodbye?’

‘I already have.’ Her teeth were really chattering now as she spoke and all Hamish wanted to do was put his arms around her, but something in her stance told him she wouldn’t want it. ‘Can I pay you now? Only I don’t want a bill for this arriving in a couple of weeks—I’d rather just deal with it all today.’

‘There’s no charge,’ Nick said as he stared at the withered pony and reminded himself all over again why he did this job. ‘How many kids did this old boy make smile in his lifetime?’

‘Lots!’ Charlotte sniffed, and went to go but changed her mind, sinking to her knees for just one more fleeting second and kissing him goodbye for the last time.

It was horrible being back at the house.

Horrible watching her fill the kettle and chatting away as if nothing was going on outside.

‘You must be exhausted—up all night with Bailey and then my dramas…’ She filled his mug with hot water but forgot to put in the coffee, scooping in a ridiculous amount of sugar and then added so much milk that it slopped over the brim, chatted about everything and nothing as Hamish drank his tasteless brew.

Not even when the truck arrived did she waver—smiling at Bailey as he graced them with his presence, feeding him home-made pancakes and later chatting ten to the dozen as she cleaned the benches in the kitchen and a pale-faced Hamish bounced his son on his knee.

Only when the truck drove off did she waver.

Hamish gently put Bailey down and headed over to someone who today needed him just a little bit more—wrapping his arms around her frozen shoulders, holding her as the truck and its contents rumbled past.

‘Daddy!’ Bailey squealed in indignation, but Hamish didn’t even hear it, holding her close, stroking her hair, and just blocking it all out when she needed it most.

‘It’s for the best really…’ Sitting tiny on the sofa, legs tucked under her, her hand around a mug of hot chocolate, Hamish listened patiently as Charlotte rattled on.

It was just her way, Hamish told himself that night—just as he had maybe a hundred times that day.

She’d adored that pony, Hamish knew that, was sure that she
must
be bleeding inside, but apart from that small display of emotion when the truck had headed off,
Charlotte had just been…well, Charlotte. Chatty, happy and incredibly objective. ‘He was just so-o old…’ She gave a small sad smile. ‘At least I won’t have to worry about vet bills any more. He was costing me an absolute fortune.’

‘That was where all your money went?’ Hamish checked.

‘All of it, and some I didn’t have.’ Charlotte nodded. ‘I’d saved up for a new car—was just about to choose the colour, then he got cancer. He was in so much pain. I was going to have him destroyed, but then I wanted him to have just a few last weeks pain-free. The operation cost a fortune—then there was the aftercare. He lasted more than a year so it’s been a running tap of vet’s bills ever since.’

‘He must have meant a lot to you…’ Hamish attempted to get her to open up just a touch. ‘To spend all that money when you knew….’

‘He was past it? Oh, well, it’s done now. I think I’ll go to bed.’

‘You’ll be all right?’

‘Of course,’ Charlotte said, standing up.

‘If you want to talk, we can. I could open a bottle of wine.’

‘And watch me get maudlin over Scottie.’ Charlotte shook her head. ‘Look, I’ve known this day was coming for ages, Hamish. To tell the truth, it’s actually a relief it’s over.’

Heading up the stairs, Charlotte brushed her teeth and hair, carefully took off her make-up and then padded into the bedroom. Peeling off her clothes, she climbed into
bed, staring dry-eyed at the ceiling, barely moving a muscle as ages later Hamish followed suit and came to bed.

And still she lay there, listening to Fitz whinnying into the night, calling out for his friend that had always been there, and his lonely call was almost more than she could bear.

‘Don’t!’

She actually said it out loud, got up and closed the window then climbed back into bed, willing sleep to come, willing her mind to think about the most banal of things…

Scared that if she started crying now, she’d never, ever stop.

Thumping the pillow and turning over, sleep still evaded her as ages later the phone trilled in the hallway and Bailey joined in with Fitz, calling out for his dad, when every other two-year-old was calling out for Mum…

God, she hated this cruel world sometimes.

‘Charlotte.’ There was a small rap at the door then it opened. ‘That was the hospital. I’m not on call but they’ve just been alerted to a house fire on the outskirts of town—it sounds nasty.’

‘Go!’ Charlotte called, her voice not quite as clear as usual, and it had nothing to do with the fact it was the middle of the night.

‘Can I put the light on?’

She didn’t want him to put the light on, didn’t want him to check that she was okay to look after Bailey, but unusually he didn’t await her response, just pushed the
door open farther and flicked on the light, watching as her pale features blanched at the intrusion, trying not to notice as she sat up and huddled the sheet around her that she was naked beneath it.

‘I said you’d come in, too—I hope that’s okay. It’s a family of six. I’ve rung Belinda and I’m taking Bailey over there.’

She pulled on her uniform in a matter of seconds as Hamish tried to gently rouse Bailey from his slumber, loading him into the Jeep and thankfully taking the keys and driving.

Belinda was in her driveway, huddled in her dressing gown, clearly more than used to this type of late-night drama.

‘Good luck,’ she called out as she took charge of Bailey and closed the door.

‘Poor little mite.’

‘He’s fine,’ Charlotte soothed, but her heart wasn’t really in it, seeing firsthand what the two of them had to regularly endure rammed home again how impossible Hamish’s work situation was.

And yet…

Looking sideways she saw his strong profile silhouetted in the darkness, his mind already on the job ahead. She’d seen him in action, seen him rolling up his sleeves in Emergency, seen him lecturing his juniors, marvelled at the depths of his knowledge, and she knew, if tragedy struck her family tonight…Hamish Adams was the doctor she’d want greeting them at the emergency room door….

How could he give it away?

And if he did—what a waste of an amazing talent.

‘Not what you needed, huh.’ Catching her staring, Hamish glanced over as he drove.

‘I’m sure the family whose house was on fire would say the same thing.’

‘Were you always this tough?’ Flicking on the indicator, he turned the car into the driveway of the hospital and both their eyes scanned the foyer for activity, both wondering how many fire trucks, how many ambulances would have beaten them there.

Both suddenly sick to their stomach when there wasn’t a single one.

‘Hamish!’ Helen’s voice was brisk as they raced across the foyer, turning off the phone in her hand and greeting them in the brightly lit ambulance bay. ‘I was just calling your mobile.’ She ran a hand through wiry grey hair, her sixty-year-old face tired and heavily lined thanks to an unwelcome but compulsory stint of night duty and the news she was about to impart. ‘You won’t be needed after all.’ Pulling her navy cardigan tighter around her, she didn’t quite meet his eyes as she spoke. ‘Ambulance Control just called through—there weren’t any survivors.’

‘The firefighters?’ Hamish clipped. ‘Any injuries there—smoke inhalation—?’

‘No.’ Helen shook her head. ‘They couldn’t even get close enough to get in. They’re just dousing it now. The coroner’s making his way to the scene and no doubt a few news channels are, too.

‘I’m sorry for calling you in, both of you…’ She gave a small nod to Charlotte. ‘I just thought—’

‘Always call me, Helen,’ Hamish interrupted. ‘I’m just sorry we weren’t needed.’

It was the longest drive home, no Bailey to pick up, no glimpses of normal to force a break from the horror of what had tonight taken place. The adrenaline that had spurred them out of bed and into the night markedly absent as they drove in silence, both locked in their own thoughts. And for Charlotte it was hell—like the cord being pulled on a chainsaw, her mind kept attempting to whir into angry frenzy.