Midwives On Call At Christmas: Midwife's Christmas Proposal. Abigail Gordon

Maeve shook her head. ‘Sorry. I don’t know why Simon makes me so wild. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I guess it’s because I feel like I let him down when I made the choices I did.’

      ‘Choices are there to be made and who knows what the end result will be? But, boy, do I know that feeling.’ She handed Maeve her antenatal card. ‘I’m trying to learn that blame and guilt are useless emotions. So is resentment. It’s helped me. Hard to do but letting all that go has really made me start each day fresh.’

      Maeve patted her stomach. ‘A bit hard when the reminder is poking out in front.’

      ‘Nah. Perfect time to be fresh with a new baby. I’ll be there for your birth, Louisa will spoil you rotten, and Simon will be a doting uncle.’ She looked at Maeve. ‘You say the baby’s father is out of the picture. Do you think he’ll try to find you when he gets out?’

      ‘I don’t think so. As I said before, a crazy, stupid, one-night stand with one of Simon’s old friends, a hunk I’ve always fancied, but he didn’t think to tell me he was going to prison. He hasn’t answered one of my letters. Or Simon’s attempts to talk to him. So that just makes me feel even more stupid.’

      ‘Nope. Silly would be if you were waiting for him with open arms and no explanations.’ Maeve made no move to go now they were finished and Tara glanced at her watch.

      ‘If you want to come and help me with the young mums’ class, it starts around one p.m. In the mothers’ tearoom behind the desk.’ Tara pointed.

      ‘Thanks. I’ll think about it. I might go for a walk now after sitting for so long.’

      ‘Sure. Or have lunch and come back. I’ll go home soon and grab a bite.’ One of the midwives signalled to Tara as they walked out the door and Maeve shooed her towards the midwife.

      ‘I’ll go for a walk and come back.’

      Tara arrived back at the manse half an hour later and Simon was in the kitchen, making coffee. He’d been waiting for them to return and, to him, it seemed like they’d been gone for hours. Maybe Maeve did have something wrong. Maybe his niggling worries did have some foundation. By the time Tara arrived, minus Maeve, he could barely contain his concern.

      He forced himself not to pounce on her and gestured to the pot. ‘You want one?’

      ‘Love one, thanks. Black.’

      ‘No sugar.’

      ‘How did you know?’

      He had to smile at that. He’d asked Louisa yesterday. ‘So how did the antenatal visit go?’

      ‘Fine.’

      ‘So everything’s fine?’

      ‘I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you.’

      ‘Come on. Reassure me.’

      ‘Sure. We did bloods for thirty-six weeks and baby is moving well.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Nothing else to tell until the blood results came back or we’d be speculating.’

      ‘Speculating about what?’

      ‘Nothing yet.’ She was squirming and he wanted to know why, though it warred with his sense of fair play, but then there was big brother mode.

      He saw the way Tara straightened her back and he felt a pang of guilt. She shouldn’t have had to gird her loins against him.

      She sized him up. ‘You know, you’re the one who said we should have a great rapport, and I’m just wondering how you think that will be built if I run to you with results and private information. I’m assuming you don’t discuss your pregnant ladies with their relatives?’

      He paused. Looked at her. ‘No. You’re right. I take that on board.’ In fact, he was ashamed of himself for leaning on her but the niggling unease about his sister’s health was also a concern. ‘But if you’re keeping something from me about my baby sister, I won’t be happy.’

      He couldn’t seem to stop himself.

      Tara was up for the challenge. ‘Thanks for that. Didn’t pick you for a bully. Silly me.’

      True, and he didn’t know what had come over him. Simon reached out, wanted to touch her briefly on her shoulder, but pulled back. ‘Tara, I’m sorry. I have no right to harass you. Please accept my apology.’

      Her phone rang and she glanced at the number. ‘Now I know why you drive your sister mad. Good intentions and apologies. Would make anyone feel bad. But I’m not going there.’ She answered the phone. Listened and then said, ‘Okay.’

      She glanced at Simon with a bland smile. ‘No problems. Gotta go.’ Pulled open the fridge and grabbed an apple before she sailed out the door. ‘See you later.’

      Simon watched her walk away and he knew he’d been in the wrong—but she still hadn’t given him answers.

      The problem was that the last few days he’d been aware that something was not quite right about Maeve. He hated it had been a month since she’d last been seen, and he couldn’t put his finger on the symptoms. But pressuring Tara was unlike him.

      He guessed on Monday he’d be in a position to access his sister’s blood pathology files when he went to work but he’d try not to look. It wasn’t his practice to second-guess a colleague and he shouldn’t start now. But it would be challenging not to peek.

       CHAPTER SIX

      MONDAY MORNING SAW Tara scooting around the ward, tidying up after their last discharged mother and baby. The first thing she’d done was check Maeve’s results and thankfully they were totally normal so it was fine she hadn’t mentioned anything to Simon.

      As she worked she was thinking at least if Simon asked she could say everything was fine. Funny how she wasn’t looking forward to the next time she saw him in one way and in the other she looked forward to just ‘seeing him’.

      Before she could think too much of it a car screeched to a stop out front and a harried-looking man she hadn’t seen before leapt from the driver’s side before Tara could open the passenger door.

      ‘Her waters broke. She’s pushing.’

      Tara sent a reassuring nod towards the strained face of the woman seated awkwardly in the front seat, and wished this had happened earlier at handover so at least there would be two midwives there for the birth. Judging by the concentration that had settled over the woman’s face and the tiny outward breaths she was making, that wasn’t going to happen.

      The man said, ‘It’s breech and they said Susan had to have a Caesarean birth in Brisbane.’

      Tara doubted a Caesarean would be possible in the minutes they had left. ‘Okay. I’ll grab a wheelchair while you stand Susan up and we’ll get inside at least.’

      She was thinking breech, Simon, handy, and before she spun the strategically placed wheelchair out the door she pressed the little green button they used for paging help so that someone from the other side of the hospital could lend her a hand, even if it was only to phone the midwife and doctor on call.

      ‘It’s okay, Susan.’ She spoke in a slow, calm voice, because people arriving at the last minute in labour wasn’t that unusual, and she smiled again as she eased the woman into the chair and began pushing swiftly towards the door. ‘You’ll be fine. Help’s coming, and we’ve had breech babies here before.’ Not in her time but she’d heard the stories and Susan’s belly didn’t look full term so baby might be a little early as well. All good things for a breech delivery.

      The stress on the husband’s face eased a little and Tara shared additional comfort. ‘The more worried Susan is, the more painful the contractions feel. That seems a shame so if everyone takes a deep breath