Outback Baby
Author
Barbara Hannay
Reads
18,2K
Chapters
11
CHAPTER ONE
WHEN Gemma heard the pounding on her front door, she knew something was desperately wrong. Startled, she hurried to answer it, hardly expecting to find her best friend on her doorstep, clutching her ten-month-old daughter to her chest as if the baby were a life-preserver.
‘I need your help, Gemma. Are you terribly busy?’
Shocked by the fear in her friend’s eyes, Gemma slipped a reassuring arm around her shoulders. ‘Bel, you know I’m never too busy for you. Come in and tell me what’s wrong.’
Isobel stepped into the flat with a shaky sigh and hefted baby Mollie higher on her hip. Her eyes darted to the pile of paperwork on Gemma’s dining table. ‘Oh, you are busy. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t worry about this mess.’ With a quick dismissive gesture, Gemma gathered up the designs she’d just finished and slipped them into a manila folder. For the moment she would have to put aside her own panic about deadlines and the need to dash this marketing brochure to the printers this afternoon. Isobel was obviously besieged by much more serious problems. ‘How can I help?’
To Gemma’s horror, Isobel’s normally serene face crumpled and tears spilled onto her cheeks. ‘It’s Dave.’
‘Dave? Has something happened in Africa?’ Two months earlier, Isobel’s husband Dave had been seconded by an Australian aid agency to sink wells in Somalia.
Isobel hugged Mollie even closer and rested a trembling chin on the baby’s curly head. ‘It’s so sudden, it’s terrible. He’s being held hostage. I’m sure it’s all some awful mistake, but rebels are involved.’ She drew a deep shuddering breath, clearly trying to suppress the urge to burst into full-scale crying.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Gemma whispered, gripping her friend’s cold fingers while she gaped at her.
Surely this sort of thing didn’t happen to ordinary people? Not to easygoing, cheerful Dave Jardine?
She groped for the right words and gave up the struggle. ‘I’m so sorry. This is terrible. Poor Dave.’ The thought of her childhood friend—the boy she’d grown up with in the bush—facing armed rebels was appalling. How could his wife bear it? She stared helplessly at Isobel’s white face and whispered, ‘What can we do?’
‘I’m going to him,’ Isobel answered with a determined lift of her chin.
‘You’re going to Africa?’ Gemma pulled out another chair and sat down swiftly. This second shock was almost worse than the first. ‘What can you do?’ she asked at last.
‘Apparently I’m the only one who can do anything,’ Isobel explained with wide, frightened eyes. ‘Because I’m Dave’s wife, the people at the Australian Embassy think I can help. Dave’s there for humanitarian reasons and they think the rebels are more likely to respond if we work on the family angle.’
‘Oh, Isobel, how brave of you!!’ Gemma jumped up again and hugged her. ‘Lucky Dave to have such a wonderful wife.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘Love and the kind of marriage that you guys have—it’s—it’s amazing!’ For Gemma it was beyond imagining. With a short burst of pride, she remembered that she shared responsibility for this wonderful partnership by introducing Isobel and Dave during their university days.
Her gaze dropped to the innocent baby perched happily on her mother’s lap. ‘You couldn’t dream of taking little Mollie into a dangerous situation like that?’
‘No, of course I couldn’t.’ Isobel sighed and pressed her lips to her daughter’s chubby cheek. ‘I can’t bear the thought of leaving her behind, but that’s where you come in, Gem. I’ve an enormous favour to ask.’
‘Of course—I’ll do anything.’ Gemma did her best to ignore the nervous knot tightening in her stomach as her mind raced.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t ring you first to warn you, but I knew you were going to be home and…’ Isobel’s voice trailed away as she looked at her friend hopefully.
‘Just tell me how I can help.’
‘I was hoping you could mind Mollie for me.’
Gemma gulped. While she adored Mollie, she knew absolutely zilch about caring for babies. She pressed her lips tightly together before she verbalised any of the sudden doubts that swamped her. Of course she could mind a baby. Millions of women all over the world had been doing it for centuries without turning a hair. ‘I’d love to have her,’ she said with a bright smile.
Isobel reached out and squeezed Gemma’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I’ve dumped this on you at such short notice, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else to look after my little girl. My parents are on holiday in Spain, as you know. Dave’s father is too old—and it has to be someone I know well. Someone who cares about Mollie. Not a nanny I’ve never met. Honestly, Gem, you’re my best friend and, working from home as you do, I couldn’t think of anyone better.’
‘I’m flattered that you trust me,’ Gemma responded warmly, but she couldn’t help adding, ‘You do realise, don’t you, that I—I don’t have much experience with babies. Actually—I don’t have any experience with them.’
‘Oh, Gemma, you’ve been around Mollie heaps. And you’ll be amazed how it all comes so instinctively. I’m sure you’re a natural!’ She gave her daughter a motherly hug. ‘And Mollie’s really quite a good little poppet.’
‘Of course,’ Gemma responded quickly, not wanting to alarm her friend. ‘She’s a darling.’ When she thought about Dave’s desperate plight and Isobel’s brave decision to go to Africa, Gemma knew she could hardly make a fuss about caring for one perfectly harmless and tiny human being.
Her friend’s grey eyes brightened. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I’ve rung Max. I’m sure he’ll be happy to help you any way he can.’
‘Max?’ Gemma had been playing with Mollie’s pink toes, but at the mention of Dave’s older brother Max, her head jerked up. ‘I won’t need any help from him!’
To her annoyance, Gemma’s heart began a fretful pounding.
Since she’d been six years old, Max Jardine had always managed to get under her skin. When they were teenagers, Gemma had never been able to understand why the girls in the outback town of Goodbye Creek, where she and the Jardine boys had gone to school, had scored Max a ‘hunk factor’ of ten. They had raved about his well-toned body and dark good looks.
‘But you’ve seriously overlooked his personality defects,’ she’d pointed out.
‘What defects?’ the girls had scoffed.
And Gemma had rolled her eyes in disgust. She was well-acquainted with his faults. She’d spent half her childhood on the Jardine’s property, camping and canoeing or horse-riding with Dave, and Max had always been in the background, treating her like a bad smell that hung around his brother.
In the years since she’d left the outback she’d only seen Max a handful of times, but nothing had changed. He still looked on her as a lower life-form. She shook her head. ‘Max Jardine would know even less than I do about caring for a baby.’
Isobel was regarding Gemma strangely. ‘I didn’t realise you were so touchy about Max.’
‘I’m not touchy about him,’ Gemma snapped.
Isobel’s eyebrows rose. ‘If you say so.’
‘It’s just that I fail to see how a man who spends his whole life marooned in the outback like a hermit with only cattle for company could be any use when it comes to minding Mollie.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ Isobel agreed cautiously. ‘But let’s not forget that Max is Dave’s brother. I had to let him know what had happened.’
Gemma could hardly deny that, but it didn’t help her to feel any better. ‘How did he react?’ she asked warily.
‘Actually, I couldn’t speak to him directly. There was no answer when I rang through to the property this morning, so I left a message on his answering machine. He must be out in the bush mustering or maybe fencing, so I simply explained what I was going to do.’
‘And you told him I would be taking care of Mollie?’
‘I said that was my plan.’
‘I see.’
Gemma decided there and then that if Max Jardine knew she’d been asked to care for Mollie, she would mind this baby as expertly as a triple-certificated nanny. This wasn’t just a case of helping out her best friend. She didn’t want to give Mollie’s grumpy Uncle Max one tiny chance to criticise her.
Exactly why Gemma cared about Max’s opinion was an issue she didn’t have time to consider now. She was too busy worrying about how she could mind Mollie and carry on her business.
But she would find a way. She might collapse in the attempt, but she would give it her best shot.
Lifting Mollie from Isobel’s arms, Gemma cuddled her close. The baby girl was soft and warm and smelt delicious. ‘Tell me everything I need to know about our little darling.’
‘Oh, Gem. I’m so relieved. I knew I could depend on you.’ Isobel let out a relieved sigh. ‘I can give you everything you’ll need for Mollie. In fact, my bag’s packed and I have it all in the car.’
‘You mean you’re heading off today?’
‘It’s important that I get to Dave as fast as I can. I’ll get Mollie’s things for you now.’
‘Sure,’ Gemma replied, more confidently than she felt. ‘You get the baby gear and I’ll make us some coffee.’
By the time she’d drunk her coffee, Gemma’s mind was reeling. She had three closely written pages of detailed instructions about caring for Mollie. At the outset, Isobel had said minding a baby was simple, but Mollie came with more operating instructions than a state-of-the-art computer.
How could one little scrap require so much work? And how, she wondered, after she’d waved goodbye to Isobel, could she suddenly manage Mollie and her business? She looked at the pink and white bundle in her arms and tried to suppress a surge of alarm. She had immediate deadlines to meet and there was the constant need to drum up new clients.
Mollie’s round little eyes stared solemnly up at her, reminding Gemma of an unblinking owl. Her heart melted. ‘Kiddo, it’s just you and me now. And we’re not going to let this lick us.’ She dropped a quick kiss on Mollie’s curly head. Then she walked briskly back up the path to her flat, determined to tackle this task in as businesslike a fashion as possible.
A swish of tyres behind her brought her spinning around. In her driveway, a taxi was pulling up and a tall, rangy figure leapt from the passenger’s seat.
Max Jardine!
How in tarnation had he got from Western Queensland to Brisbane so quickly?
‘Gemma!’ Max barked as he swung open her front gate and strode towards her. His piercing blue eyes were fixed on Mollie. ‘Where’s Isobel?’
‘Hello, Max. Nice to see you, too,’ Gemma replied coolly while her heart thudded. Max switched his gaze to her and he glared as ferociously as a headmaster scowling at an unmanageable pupil. Suddenly, she felt extremely self-conscious—as if her skirt was too short, her black stockings too sheer, or her platform heels too high. No matter how much decorum she’d acquired over the years, this older brother of Dave’s always, always, always made her feel like a silly little girl. ‘How did you get here so quickly?’ she demanded.
‘I flew. I got in early this morning from checking out the back country and found Isobel’s message on the answering machine.’
Gemma remembered that she’d been told Max had invested in his own light aircraft.
‘Well, Isobel’s already left for Eagle Farm airport. You probably passed her.’
Max grimaced. ‘So she’s going ahead with this madcap scheme?’
‘Yes, she’s a very determined woman.’ Gemma hugged Mollie a little closer. Faced by this angry maelstrom of a man, she found the baby’s warmth and softness reassuring.
Cursing, Max ran impatient fingers through his dark brown hair. ‘I should be the one chasing across the world after Dave.’
Gemma smacked a hand to her forehead, pantomime-style, and beamed at him. ‘What a brilliant idea! Why didn’t Isobel or I think of that? You’re the obvious choice. You’re Dave’s brother. You’re family but, even better, you’re a man. You could spare Isobel the danger and Isobel—’ Gemma felt a heady rush of excitement and relief as the next point sank in ‘—and Isobel could continue to care for Mollie.’
‘So you don’t want to look after the baby?’
‘I—I didn’t say that.’ Her sense of relief plummeted. She and Max had hardly been talking for thirty seconds and already he’d found a way to put her down. ‘Of course I’m happy to mind her, but could you really go to Africa? Do you have your passport with you?’
‘Don’t you think I haven’t tried to go?’ Max glared back at her. ‘Foreign Affairs quickly knocked me back. They told me in no uncertain terms to stay out of it. Isobel is Dave’s next of kin and they want the wifely touch to try to appeal on humanitarian grounds. Apparently, that’s much more likely to get Dave released. I’m not happy, but I’m not going to muddy the water.’
Gemma’s shoulders sagged. ‘I suppose that’s wise. It does sound like a touchy situation.’
Max merely grunted. He moved up the path towards her and she found herself backing away from his determined stride. Some women had been heard to comment that now he’d reached thirty Max was even more good-looking than he’d been in his teens, but none of them had enticed him into marriage and Gemma knew why. His personality hadn’t improved one jot.
‘Who decided that you should be taking care of the baby?’ he drawled.
She squared her shoulders. ‘Her mother is absolutely certain that I am the perfect choice.’
A sudden wind gusted across the garden and Gemma ducked her head to protect Mollie, so she missed seeing his reaction. But she didn’t miss the sound of her front door slamming shut. Horrified, she whirled around. Dammit! Now she was stranded on her own front path with a baby in her arms and Max Jardine glowering at her.
He looked in the direction of her door. ‘You’re not locked out, are you?’
She fumbled around in her pockets, knowing that it was useless and that her keys were still hanging on a little brass hook in her kitchen. ‘Yes,’ she replied through gritted teeth.
‘You can’t get in the back way?’
‘No. I made sure I closed my back door because I was worried about my neighbour’s cat and…the baby.’
For a fraction of a second, she almost thought he smiled at her. ‘So it’s a case of climbing through a window.’
Gemma looked at her windows. It had been windy all day and the only one she’d left open was in her bedroom.
‘I can get through there in a flash,’ Max offered.
She pictured him swinging his riding boots and his long, jeans-clad legs over the sill, squeezing past the big bed that almost filled her small room—seeing the muddle of books, perfume and make-up on her bedside table and the underwear she’d left in a jumble on the end of the bed.
For some silly reason, she felt ridiculously flustered at the mere thought of Max seeing her private domain. ‘It’s OK,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ll go. I—I know my way around.’
This time he was definitely smiling. His blue eyes danced as they rested first on Mollie in her arms and then on her short skirt. ‘If you insist on getting in there yourself, let me at least help.’ He held out his arms for Mollie.
Oh, Lord! What was worse? Did she want Max Jardine prowling around her bedroom, or Max, with Mollie in one arm, helping her up to her window and watching her skirt hike over her hips as she clambered through? Damn the man! Why did his presence always rock her so badly? This was hardly a life-threatening situation and yet she was feeling completely rattled.
‘I guess you’ve got the longer legs. You’d better do the climbing,’ she muttered ungraciously.
‘OK,’ he agreed easily, and in no time he had disappeared.
She saw her lace curtain snag as Max moved past it and she wondered what he thought of the ridiculously huge bed that dominated her tiny bedroom. She had taken the flat because it came fully furnished and the rent was cheap, considering how closely it was situated to the central business district. Most tenants, she assumed, would consider the king-size bed a bonus, but it was rather more than she needed.
The front door swung open.
‘Miss Brown, Miss Mollie,’ Max welcomed them with a deep bow.
‘Thanks,’ Gemma replied stiffly as she sailed past him into her flat with her head high. At the entrance to her lounge room, she paused and eyed him coolly, feeling uncomfortably more like the guest than the hostess. To right matters she added, ‘I take it you’ve come to visit us?’
‘We’ve got to work out what’s best for this little one.’
Gemma sighed. She sensed combat ahead of her and here she was, facing the enemy without any time to construct a battle plan. The whole business of getting into the flat had set her off on the wrong foot. ‘Isobel has already decided what’s best for her daughter,’ she told him haughtily. ‘Don’t forget this baby’s mother is my best friend.’
‘And this baby is my niece,’ Max growled.
What would poor little Mollie think, if she could understand the way they were bickering over her?
Max moved away and she grimaced as he surveyed her lounge room. Its appearance had deteriorated somewhat now that Mollie’s gear was piled in the middle of the carpet. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Max’s brows pull into a frown as he studied the mountain of equipment. There were numerous toys, a collapsible cot, a car seat, pram and playpen, not to mention enough clothes to dress an entire kindergarten.
His gaze also took in the piles of pamphlets and boxes Gemma had ‘filed’ on her sofa. Her computer and more paperwork covered the small dining table.
‘There’ll be much more room when I move the baby’s gear into the bedroom,’ she explained hastily.
Max cracked half a grin. ‘Which bedroom would that be?’
‘M-mine.’
‘How many bedrooms do you have?’
Why her cheeks should flame at such a straightforward question was beyond her. ‘Just—just the one,’ she stammered.
Max stood staring at her with his hands on his hips, shaking his head as if he hadn’t heard her properly. ‘You’re going to put all this gear in that miniature bedroom I just came through?’
‘Some of it,’ she mumbled.
‘You’ll need to buy a smaller bed.’
Gemma wouldn’t give into his provocation by responding to that comment. To her further annoyance, he turned and sauntered around her compact kitchen, then back to the lounge and dining area, silently, grimly inspecting every detail. Her dwelling seemed smaller than ever with his large frame invading the space. Finally, he swivelled back to face her. And for an unnecessarily long moment, his disturbing blue eyes rested on her.
At last he spoke very quietly. ‘It can’t be done, Gemma. You can’t take care of Mollie here in this shoe-box.’
‘Of course I can. Isobel has total faith in me.’
‘Isobel is desperate.’
Gemma told herself she should expect a hurtful jab like this from Max and she resolved not to let him intimidate her. She matched his challenging gaze with a scornful glare. ‘Isobel wasn’t so desperate that she’d risk her baby’s welfare. She has complete trust in my ability to care for Mollie.’
His eyes narrowed as he stared thoughtfully at the toes of his leather riding boots.
‘Why don’t you?’ she challenged.
His head came up slowly, but he didn’t speak.
‘Why don’t you trust me, Max?’
Before he replied, he thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his faded jeans. ‘I’m sure you have good intentions, Gemma. But I keep remembering…’ His Adam’s apple moved up and down rapidly.
When he paused, Gemma rushed to defend herself. ‘I doubt that you’ve noticed, but I’m not a little kid any more.’
This time his mouth curved into a relaxed smile and his amused blue gaze rested on her for an uncomfortable length of time before he spoke. ‘Believe me, kiddo, I’ve noticed how grown-up you look these days.’
No amount of willpower could prevent Gemma’s blushes. She ducked her face behind Mollie’s golden curls.
‘But what I’m remembering is your reaction at the hospital when Mollie was born,’ he continued. ‘You told us all very loudly that you were allergic to babies. You wouldn’t touch her for fear she would break.’
Gemma tried valiantly to suppress a gasp of dismay. ‘Newborn babies don’t count,’ she muttered defensively. ‘Everyone’s nervous about holding them. I love Mollie now.’
‘But you said you were going to wait till she was old enough to—what was it? Take shopping? I think you were planning to teach her how to buy shoes and where to get the very best coffee in town.’
Stunned, Gemma stared at Max. The man had the memory of an elephant! She had only dim recollections of this conversation. How on earth did he retain such insignificant details? He must make a habit of hoarding up ammunition like this to fire when it most hurt.
‘OK, I was scared of Mollie at first,’ she admitted. ‘I’d never been in close contact with such a tiny new baby before, but I—I’ve adjusted. Mollie and I get on famously now.’
At that moment, Mollie wriggled restlessly in Gemma’s arms and uttered a little cry of protest. Gemma stared helplessly at the squirming baby. Just whose side was this kid on? She tried to jiggle Mollie on her hip. She’d seen Isobel do it many times and it always seemed to work.
‘I take it,’ added Max, ‘you’re going to try to play nursemaid and carry on a business as well?’
‘Of course. It shouldn’t be a problem.’ It was the worst possible moment for Mollie to let out an earsplitting wail, but she did. Her little face turned deep pink, her bottom lip wobbled and she sobbed desperately. Feeling totally threatened, Gemma quickly placed the baby on the floor at her feet. To her surprise, Mollie stopped crying almost immediately. She sat there quietly and began to suck her fist.
‘Look at that,’ Gemma beamed, feeling a whole lot better. ‘I won’t have to cart her around every minute of the day. I’ll be able to sit her in her playpen surrounded by toys and get on with my work.’
Max’s expression softened for a moment as he watched his niece, but when his gaze reached Gemma again, he scowled, shook his head and shoved his hands deeper in the pockets of his jeans. ‘I’m not going to allow her to stay here, Gemma.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Not going to allow her? Could she be hearing this? Gemma had always wondered what people meant when they described hackles rising on the backs of their necks. Now she knew.
‘You heard me. I’m not going to abandon my niece.’
‘Abandon her?’ she echoed. ‘How dare you insinuate that leaving her with me is the same as abandoning her?’
‘Don’t take it personally, Gem.’
The relaxed way Max leaned back against her kitchen bench doubled Gemma’s anger.
‘How on earth am I supposed to take it?’
‘This is a family matter. You know the old saying about blood being thicker than water. A friend can’t be expected to take on such responsibility.’
‘For crying out loud, I’m more than a friend,’ Gemma cried. ‘I’m Mollie’s godmother!’ But as the words left her lips, she realised they weren’t much help. This man, this enemy, this ogre—was poor Mollie’s godfather.
‘How on earth are you going to look after Mollie?’ Gemma challenged before Max could respond. ‘You’ve no women on your property and only a handful of ringers. I doubt they’ll be much help.’
‘I’ll hire a nanny, of course. Someone with the very best training.’
She made an exaggerated show of rolling her eyes in disgust. ‘If Isobel wanted a nanny for Mollie, she could have hired one herself. The poor woman doesn’t know how long she’s going to be away and she wants someone she knows, someone who really cares about her baby, not a stranger who happens to have official qualifications.’
Max sighed and ran long fingers through his hair as he stared at the waxed tiles on Gemma’s kitchen floor. ‘Isobel said she didn’t want a nanny?’
‘Yes,’ she replied firmly.
‘OK,’ he said at last. With another deeper sigh, his head flicked sideways and his eyes locked onto hers. ‘You and I are both Mollie’s godparents, so we should make this a shared responsibility.’
