Snowkissed!: The Midwife's Marriage Proposal

Except him. Tom frowned.

He was the one person who’d been allowed to get close to her.

‘And can you blame her for that?’ Bryony defended her friend quickly. ‘She spent her childhood moving from foster-home to foster-home, with no security and no one she could trust or love.’

Tom shifted uncomfortably.

Sally had trusted him. And she’d loved him. Until he’d betrayed that trust and thrown her love back in her face.

‘This is a small community,’ he said finally, draining his beer and standing up. ‘Sally and I need to clear the air if we’re going to be able to work together. Are you going to tell me where she’s living, Bry?’

Bryony kept her eyes on the table. ‘I’m sorry, Tom. I can’t.’

Tom cast an exasperated look at Jack who shrugged helplessly.

‘Women.’ He winked at his wife. ‘Especially blonde women.’

Tom gritted his teeth, his sense of humour less in evidence. ‘You know me well enough to know that I’ll track her down sooner or later.’

Bryony looked at him. ‘But it will have been without my help.’

‘You’re making things more difficult.’

‘Difficult was what you did to her seven years ago,’ Bryony said stiffly. ‘Think about that while you’re preparing your speech, big brother.’

Tom picked up his jacket and nodded to Jack. ‘Thanks for the beer.’

‘Any time,’ Jack said mildly, ignoring his wife’s glare. ‘Any time. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.’

By the time she arrived at work the next morning, Sally was back in control.

The first meeting was always going to be difficult, she assured herself, stuffing her bag into her locker and making her way onto the labour ward.

From now on it could only get easier.

Having made that assumption, it annoyed her intensely to find that her heart missed a beat when she saw Tom walking towards her down the corridor with that loose-limbed stride that had always set her heart racing.

His eyes were tired and the roughness of his darkened jaw suggested that he’d been up for most of the night.

‘Good morning.’ He gave her a smile that made her catch her breath and she automatically shut down her feelings.

She didn’t want to respond to that smile.

Didn’t want to acknowledge the curl of awareness low in her pelvis.

‘Busy night?’

‘You could say that.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Why don’t babies keep regular hours?’

Sally shrugged, intending to pass him, but he caught her arm and pulled her close to him, his voice low and meant only for her.

‘If Emma hadn’t interrupted us, we would have had that conversation last night. How long do you think you can keep running, Sally?’

She drew breath, forcing herself to ignore the strength of his fingers on her arm. ‘I’m not running, Tom.’ She stepped neatly away from him, forcing him to release her. ‘I’m walking. And we wouldn’t have had a conversation. I don’t want one.’

‘Why? I’m offering you the opportunity to shout at me or black my eye.’

She gave a faint smile. ‘Why would I want to do that?’

‘Because I probably deserve it.’

She stilled. Was he apologizing? Was he admitting that he’d been wrong?

‘You made the decision that was right for you, Tom.’

His jaw tightened. ‘It was right for both of us.’

So he didn’t think he’d been wrong.

He’d never regretted it.

A rush of emotion threatened to choke her but she held his gaze steadily and her voice was chilly. ‘In that case, what is there to talk about?’

He sucked in a breath and looked uncertain, obviously thrown by her response. It occurred to her that it was the first time she’d ever seen Tom anything other than supremely confident. ‘I just know I need to talk to you.’

Sally shook her head. ‘There’s nothing to be gained from rehashing the past. What happened, happened. It’s done. You made the decision for both of us. I had no choice but to go along with that.’

Without waiting for his answer, she slid past him and carried on up the corridor without looking back, trying to control her heart rate.

She had no doubt that sooner or later he would force her into the conversation that he was obviously determined to have. But she was determined to postpone the moment for as long as possible.

‘Good morning.’ She smiled at Emma who was collecting a set of notes from the desk. One glance at the whiteboard told her that she was in for a busy day. ‘Where do you want me?’

‘Can you divide yourself into four?’ Emma rolled her eyes. ‘I’ve rung down to the ward to ask for some help up here. Everyone seems to have gone into labour at once.’

‘Isn’t that always the way?’ Sally reached for the nearest set of notes. She didn’t mind being busy. All she asked was that today’s mother-to-be would have a normal delivery. She didn’t think she could face another day working side by side with Tom.

‘Perhaps you could take Charlotte Knight,’ Emma said, staring at the board with her eyes narrowed. ‘She’s four centimetres dilated and she’s asking for an epidural. She seems to have made up her mind so I’ve put in a call to the anaesthetist.’

Sally nodded. ‘You do a lot of epidurals here?’

‘Not if we can help it.’ Tom’s deep, male voice came from behind them and Sally felt her heart miss a beat. She hadn’t heard his approach. ‘There is little doubt that epidurals are associated with longer labours, more use of oxytocin and more use of forceps and ventouse. We add in opiates and reduce the bupivacaine dose, which allows some mobility while maintaining adequate pain relief, but even so there is an increased rate of instrumental delivery. If we can encourage the mother to use a different sort of pain relief, we do.’

‘Well, I failed with her, I’m afraid,’ Emma said gloomily, spreading her hands in a gesture of resignation. ‘I suppose it might be worth Sally giving it a try. You might have more luck.’

Sally tucked the notes under her arm and looked at Tom. ‘I thought most obstetricians were more than happy to dive in with instruments. It’s what you love doing.’

‘Women are designed to give birth,’ Tom said calmly. ‘Given the right amount of support and encouragement and some patience on our part, most of them manage it extremely well by themselves.’

‘Aren’t you rather talking yourself out of a job?’ Sally gave a faint smile and he shrugged.

‘Believe it or not, I already have more than enough work to keep me from my bed at night.’ He nodded to Emma. ‘And on that note, I’m off to do a ward round then I’m going to bed, if I can remember where it is. It’s so long since I last saw it that I may have trouble remembering, and I’m supposed to be working again tonight so there’s not much hope of seeing it then either. You can call me if you need me.’

He strode off, leaving Emma staring after him wistfully. ‘You see what I mean? Other doctors grab a woman as soon as she steps onto the labour ward and before you know it she’s had her waters broken, a drip up and she’s being given oxytocin. Tom lets a woman get on with it. He’s wonderful. And he doesn’t let the hospital management bully him into pushing patients through as fast as possible. Tom always says that labour takes as long as it takes.’ She gave Sally a sheepish smile. ‘Sorry. You’ve probably guessed that I’d have his babies by now if he asked me.’

Sally felt a sharp flash of pain. She would have had his babies, too.

‘Not that I seriously entertain any hopes in that direction,’ Emma said lightly. ‘Our Mr Hunter is a workaholic. No time for a serious relationship. Was he like that when you knew him?’

‘Probably.’ Sally’s smile was noncommittal. ‘It was a long time ago.’

Seven years, six weeks, three days and seven hours to be precise.

‘Anyway …’ Emma waved a hand towards one of the delivery rooms ‘… go and have a chat with Charlotte. See if you can persuade her to try something different.’

‘Did you discuss the pool?’

‘She wasn’t keen.’

‘Aromatherapy?’

Emma shook her head. ‘She didn’t seem the type, but by all means go ahead. Tom would love you for ever if you manage to talk her out of an epidural.’

Sally picked up the notes and walked down the corridor, trying not to remember that at one point in her life she’d truly believed that Tom’s love would last for ever.

But she’d been wrong.

Pushing away painful memories, she opened the door to the delivery room and smiled at the woman on the bed.

‘Charlotte?’ She put the notes down on the side and walked across the room. ‘I’m Sally. I’m your midwife.’

The young woman was clutching the edge of the bed and breathing rapidly. ‘This is agony. I want an epidural.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ Sally said immediately. ‘We’ve called the anaesthetist, but while we’re waiting for him I just want to try a few things with you to help you relax. You’re very tense, Charlotte, and that will make the pain worse.’

She talked quietly to the woman, calming her down, and then she dimmed the lights slightly and settled her in one of the chairs.

‘Do you like massage?’

The woman made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. ‘I love it. But I can’t afford it very often since I gave up work.’

Sally smiled and picked up one of her bottles of essential oils. ‘Then you’re in luck. I’m part of the service. I’m just going to do your neck and shoulders to try and relieve the tension. If you get a contraction and you want me to stop, let me know.’

She smoothed her hands over the woman’s skin and Charlotte gave a moan of pleasure. ‘That feels amazing.’

Sally carried on massaging her, feeling the young woman gradually relax.

As each contraction came she helped her breathe properly and gradually Charlotte became calmer.

‘You’re coping really well,’ Sally said quietly. ‘Are you sure you want that epidural?’

Charlotte opened her eyes. ‘I don’t think I can cope without it.’

‘You are coping. You’re coping really well. And there are other things that we can try as well.’

Charlotte stirred and looked at her husband, ‘What do you think?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s up to you, love. Whatever you feel is best.’

‘You don’t have to decide now,’ Sally said, her hands still stroking the woman’s back. ‘Why don’t we just delay the anaesthetist for a bit and see how we get on?’

Charlotte gave a sigh and closed her eyes again. ‘All right.’

Sally spent the rest of the afternoon with Charlotte, keeping her as relaxed as possible, encouraging her and helping her breathings. As the contractions grew stronger, she used different aromatherapy oils and soothing music and helped Charlotte to breathe the gas and air.

‘I can’t believe she isn’t screaming for an epidural,’ Emma muttered, when Sally nipped outside for a quick break. ‘You’re a miracle worker.’

‘I’m not.’ Sally downed a glass of water quickly, reluctant to leave Charlotte for too long. ‘I think someone had just persuaded her that an epidural is the answer. I don’t think she’d even considered other options.’

She went back to Charlotte and stayed there until early evening when she nipped out to take a phone call from Oliver Hunter, Tom and Bryony’s brother, inviting her over that evening to meet his new fiancée.

‘It’s great that you’re home, Sally. The whole gang is back together at last. Come and have supper,’ he said easily, his tone as warm and friendly as ever. As if she hadn’t been away for seven years with no contact.

Sally gave a soft smile as she held the phone. Oliver always had been the more friendly of the two brothers. Open and straightforward, where Tom was complex and brooding.

Why couldn’t she have fallen for Oliver?

Life would have been so much more straightforward if she had.

‘So will you come?’

Sally’s hand tightened on the receiver. Was it really possible to pick up the strands of friendship as if she’d never dropped them?

Suddenly she felt awkward. Awkward that she’d abandoned them all. But it had been the only way. If she hadn’t cut the ties, she never would have survived. ‘I don’t know what time I’ll finish here …’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Oliver said immediately. ‘Come over whenever. Bry and Jack are coming, and a few others. I’m trying to integrate my Helen into the community.’

Sally hesitated, wanting to know whether Tom would be there but not able to form the question.

To ask the question would make it look as though she cared.

And, anyway, hadn’t he said that he was working?

‘I’ll be there,’ she said quickly, not giving herself the chance to think about the invitation any further. It would be nice to go out. Nice to see Oliver again.

She went back to Charlotte and in virtually no time she was fully dilated and ready to push.

Sally called for Emma and together they quietly delivered the baby with the minimum of fuss and bother.

‘Well done, Charlotte,’ Sally said quietly as she handed the baby to her very tired but very proud mother. ‘You were amazing.’

‘I can’t thank you enough.’ Charlotte gazed down at her baby daughter and tears filled her eyes. ‘And I did it all by myself.’

‘That’s right.’ Sally smiled. ‘All by yourself.’

Emma sniffed. ‘And that’s the way it should be done.’

‘Another long day.’ Sally changed into her jeans and a jumper the exact colour of her eyes, slammed her locker shut and pocketed the key. ‘See you tomorrow, Emma.’

She ran down the stairs to the bike rack at the back of the unit and grabbed her mountain bike.

It was a cold, clear evening and she rode fast, chasing away the pressures of the past few days, enjoying the bite of winter air against her cheeks.

Oliver answered the door with a smile. ‘Sally!’ He stepped forward and hugged her tightly. ‘It is so good to see you. We’ve missed you.’

Touched by the warm welcome, Sally hugged him back. She’d missed her friends so much, but she hadn’t truly realized how much until she’d had the letter from Bryony. Her thoughts about home had always been dominated by Tom, and somehow along the way she’d forgotten just how many longstanding friendships she had in this small community.

For a moment she closed her eyes and allowed herself the rare treat of being held by someone, and then she pulled away and reached up to kiss his cheek, handing him the bottle of wine she’d brought with her.

‘Congratulations. Bryony tells me you finally met Miss Right. The women of Cumbria must be in mourning.’

Oliver grinned. ‘The fells are littered with sobbing females. Come and meet Helen. Everyone’s in the kitchen.’

Sally followed him through to the kitchen, smiling at Jack and Bryony and sniffing appreciatively. ‘Smells good, Oliver.’

A pretty blonde girl stepped forward, a smile on her face as she greeted Sally. ‘I’m Helen and I’m very pleased to meet you.’

‘Likewise.’ Sally glanced between them. ‘I’m really delighted for the two of you. I hear you met at Bryony’s wedding two months ago?’

‘That’s right.’ Oliver slipped an arm round Helen’s shoulders and hugged her. ‘We’re getting married in two weeks’ time and before you ask the obvious question, no, she isn’t pregnant but if I have my way she will be soon.’

Helen gave a shocked gasp and gave Oliver a little push. ‘Oliver, that’s awful! You shouldn’t say things like that in company!’

Her face was scarlet with embarrassment and Oliver cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently.

‘That depends on the company.’ His tone was smug and his blue eyes twinkled. ‘This lot have always known I want a hundred children so it’s time we got started.’

Genuinely pleased that they were so happy, Sally managed a smile and tried to ignore the ache in her heart.

It would happen to her, she told herself firmly.

One day it would happen to her.

‘Have a drink.’ Oliver handed her a glass of wine and then tilted his head as the doorbell rang. ‘Be an angel and get that for me, Sal, while I finish cooking.’

The years fell away.

Suddenly she was ‘Sal’ again, and it felt good. Comfortable and safe.

During her childhood, being with Bryony, Oliver and Tom had been the nearest she’d come to belonging anywhere.

The nearest she’d had to family.

Suddenly she was glad that Bryony had married Jack. If she hadn’t, would she herself ever have found the courage to come home? Preoccupied, Sally walked to the front door and tugged it open, her smile of greeting fading as she found herself face to face with Tom.

CHAPTER FOUR

HE WAS dressed in black leathers, his motorbike helmet tucked under one arm, the dark stubble on his jaw an indication that he’d left the hospital in a hurry. He looked dark and dangerous and his blue gaze locked on hers in blatant challenge, his mouth tightening as their eyes met.

Her heart stumbled and her stomach lurched but her instinct to close the door and pretend that there was no one there was curbed by the knowledge that this wasn’t her house. She had no right to shut him out of his brother’s home.

And she really didn’t want him to know that she cared that much.

It was the one thing that stopped her dropping her glass and reaching for her coat.

Pride.

She was no longer so weak and pathetic that she believed that she couldn’t exist without Tom Hunter in her life.

Calling on inner reserves, she reminded herself that part of coming home had been to confront what she’d felt for Tom, and she couldn’t do that by avoiding him.

Avoiding him implied that she still felt something for him, and she wasn’t that foolish.

‘Well?’ A faint smile of self-mockery touched his firm mouth. ‘Are you going to slam the door in my face?’

The fact that she’d considered doing exactly that brought a trace of colour to her cheeks and she stepped to one side to let him in, careful that her gaze revealed nothing.

‘I hope I’m not that uncivilized, Tom.’

She wanted to ask why he wasn’t working, but stayed silent. She didn’t want him knowing that she cared that much or that she’d taken that much notice of what he’d told her earlier.

‘I want to talk to you, Sally.’ He unzipped his jacket and she flinched, her eyes drawn instinctively to his chest and then away, fixing on some point in Oliver’s hallway.

She forced herself to resist the command in his tone. She’d been making her own decisions for years now and she intended to carry on doing so. To listen to what he had to say would risk being sucked back into the darkness from which she’d fought so hard to escape.

‘There is absolutely nothing that you and I need to talk about, and this is supposed to be an evening spent with friends,’ she replied calmly, turning away from him with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘I haven’t seen Oliver for years and I want to get to know Helen.’

Strong fingers caught her wrist and swung her back round to face him. ‘And you and I no longer share the category of friends?’

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

Friends?

Once he’d been everything to her. Her friend, her lover—her world.

His fingers tightened and she felt his touch with every fibre of her being. Her traitorous body yearned for more. Yearned for everything this man was capable of giving.

And then she remembered that he wasn’t capable of giving enough.

He hadn’t been able to make that commitment to her.

And neither had anyone else in her life.

And she’d finally learned to live her life alone, depending on no one.

‘Of course we can be friends.’ Her answer was suitably bland. ‘After all, we’re working together.’

‘That’s colleagues,’ he replied softly, his eyes narrowing slightly. ‘Friendship is something completely different. We had it once.’

‘And I seem to remember that you decided that you no longer valued that friendship.’ She gave a cool smile to indicate that the conversation was over, ignoring the traitorous thump of her heart. ‘Oliver is handing out drinks in the kitchen. If you don’t want to miss out I suggest you move quickly.’ With a determined twist of her wrist she freed herself and walked towards the kitchen with a determined stride, feeling his frustration with a faint flicker of satisfaction.

Not everything goes your way, Tom Hunter.

She walked back into the kitchen and said, ‘Tom’s here,’ in her most casual voice, and then proceeded to top up her glass of wine.

There was a tense silence and Bryony put her hands on her hips and glared at Oliver. ‘You invited Tom?’

‘Why not?’ Oliver’s tone was calm. ‘He’s my brother. I refuse to stop socializing with him just because he used to go out with Sally. It’s been seven years, for crying out loud. It’s history. We all need to move on.’

‘But—’

‘Hush, Bry,’ Sally said quietly, reaching out and squeezing her friend’s shoulder to reassure her. ‘Oliver’s right. It’s fine.’

And it was fine. She was totally in control.

She’d always known that she wouldn’t be able to avoid Tom. And she didn’t want to.

What she wanted was to work and live in a community alongside him and not feel anything.

Bryony rubbed her fingers over her temples, visibly stressed, and Oliver glanced towards the door where Tom was leaning, listening to the exchange in silence, his handsome face devoid of expression.

He’d removed his leathers to reveal a pair of snugly fitting jeans and a black jumper that simply accentuated his masculine looks.

He looked dark and dangerous and just about as sexy as it was possible for a man to be.

‘I can’t understand why you use the motorbike in winter.’ Oliver’s tone was mild. ‘It’s freezing out there and it worries Mum.’

‘I’ve been worrying Mum since I was able to walk,’ Tom drawled, strolling to the fridge and helping himself to a bottle of beer. ‘And I like the fresh air. Good evening, Bryony.’

Ignoring the irony in his tone, Bryony glared at him and Oliver sighed.

‘You’re destroying the atmosphere of my dinner party,’ he said mildly. ‘Sort it out, bro, or we’ll all get indigestion.’

‘I intend to sort it out.’ Tom pushed the fridge door shut, his eyes on Sally. ‘So what do you say, Sally? Can we work together and socialize together without creating an atmosphere?’

Sally tensed, her fingers gripping the stem of her wineglass so tightly that it was in danger of snapping.

He stepped towards her, his gaze only for her. ‘My sister thinks you should hit me. So do it, Sally.’

She felt smothered by his closeness, by his overwhelming masculinity. She took a deep breath and then wished she hadn’t because his tantalizing male smell filled her head and clouded her senses. She had only to lift a hand to touch him but she kept both hands firmly by her sides and stared at the floor.

She decided to let him speak. If she let him speak then he’d leave her alone.

‘I don’t want to hit you.’

‘You should. It would make Bryony feel better. And stop looking at the floor.’ Tom lifted his hands and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. ‘I want you to look at me.’

Startled by his touch, she stood without moving, staring into her past, feeling the brush of his fingers on her sensitized skin.

She’d loved this man so much.

‘I’m sorry, Sally.’ His voice softened with genuine regret. ‘Sorry for hurting you so badly.’

Those blue eyes drew her in and she struggled against the powerful sexual attraction that still existed between them.

With a monumental effort she broke the contact. First the emotional, then the physical.

Shutting herself down, she stepped backwards.