‘Keep talking, that’s all you can do,’ she said.
Megan obeyed, telling Jack she’d been here in hospital herself and though she’d been sick she’d kept thinking of him and that had kept her going.
‘We need each other, Jack,’ she said, imploring a response from him. ‘We’re meant to be together.’
But Kate, who was watching the monitor all the time, willing a change in the slowly declining peaks, knew the words were being lost somewhere in the caverns of emptiness inside the young man.
Megan gave her one last despairing look, then threw the last dice.
‘We have a baby, Jack. A little boy. I called him Jackson—you know, Jack’s son. He’s been sick too, Jack, he has a bad heart, but he’s a fighter, our baby, a real little champ.’
There! The spike Kate had been praying for happened, and she turned her attention from the monitor to the patient. Jack had opened his eyes, startling Megan so much she began to cry again.
‘A baby?’ Kate lip-read the question, as his voice was strangled by the tubes in his nose and mouth.
Megan held both his hands now, and nodded, tears falling all over him.
‘A baby called Jackson. I’ll bring him in to show you just as soon as you’re well enough.’
‘Now!’
Neither Megan nor Kate could decipher the word, until Jack repeated it.
Megan turned to Kate.
‘The baby’s still here in the nursery because he ran a temperature last week and he’s still not feeding well. Can I bring him now?’
Kate had no idea of the protocol of tiny babies in this ICU, but Charles had obviously heard the conversation, for he was at the door.
‘I’ll get Lucky for you,’ he said to Megan, then he smiled apologetically and added, ‘Jackson! I must remember Jackson!’
He wheeled away, Megan returning to Jack’s side to tell him the baby was on the way, and that he looked just like his father, and now Jack was back they could be a family.
And although Jack’s eyes had closed, Kate could tell he hadn’t slipped away from them again. He’d left that no-man’s land between life and death and, hopefully, wouldn’t return there for a long, long time.
Leaving the little family in the ICU in Charles’s hands, Kate returned to the house, but now, in daylight, she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Not that there was time for sleep. It was after six and she’d been told the hospital car left for Wygera at eight. She changed into her running gear, slipped on her trainers and once again went quietly out of the house.
This time, however, she heard noises in the old building, voices from the side veranda—CJ and Cal, she guessed, while Mike was sitting at the kitchen table, talking into a mobile phone.
He lifted a hand in salute to Kate, then jotted something in a small notebook on the table in front of him.
Kate waved back and continued on her way. A good run over the headland would shake away the cobwebs her interrupted night’s sleep had left behind, and prepare her for whatever lay ahead.
She began slowly, pacing herself as she crossed the dewy grass, relishing the salt tang of the air as she drew it deeply into her lungs. Then her rhythm picked up and she extended her pace so she reached the sun-drenched summit winded enough to need to bend over to regain her breath.
So it wasn’t until she straightened that the full beauty of the place struck her—the blue-green of the sea, the curved hump of an island on the horizon, the golden sands curling around the cove.
Finally, a house by the sea. Maybe she’d extend her contract.
Maybe if her father wanted her …
Best not to think about it, she reminded herself, but the warning came too late. Thinking about the father she didn’t know had disrupted the blissful serenity her run had given her, and now, as she stared out at the peaceful sea, disquiet was growing again within her.
Or was the disquiet because she sensed she was no longer alone on the bluff?
She turned, wondering if it was one of the housemates she hadn’t yet met who was joining her in her silent communion with the sea.
It was a housemate, but one she knew—one she’d been trying not to think about as she’d run across the tough, springy grass of the headland.
‘Kate.’
Hamish was close enough to shield her from the breeze that had been fidgeting at her clothing, and her name was both an acknowledgement and a greeting.
She nodded in reply then decided to walk along the clifftop, assuming, if he wanted her company, he’d fall in beside her.
But instead he grasped her elbow, effectively halting her progress and, at the same time, turning her towards him.
He stared at her for a moment, as if uncertain who she was.
‘This is the most ridiculous situation,’ he grumbled at her.
‘Walking on a clifftop?’
‘No!’
The grumble had become a growl.
‘Then what?’
Batman would never have asked that question.
Batman would have known the answer without having to ask.
In actual fact, Kate knew the answer, too, because she could feel the attraction between them simmering in the clean morning air.
Pollution, that was what it was …
And, as Hamish had said, it was a ridiculous situation. They’d barely met. He was going away.
‘Do you know how badly I want to kiss you?’ His voice was tight enough to make the words sound clipped and harsh.
‘I can guess,’ Kate admitted, as her own body hummed with a quite absurd desire to do the same to him. ‘But I’m sure it’s just proximity that’s doing this to us. We shared a night of tension, out there in the gorge with Jack, and it drew us closer together than a month of normal company might do.’
Did she sound down to earth and together, or had her internal flutters botched the job?
‘Do you honestly believe a work-related bond would make me want to kiss you? I’ve worked with Cal for two years and never wanted to kiss him. Or Emily. Or Christina.’
Hamish didn’t seem to be moving but his body was narrowing the gap between the two of them so now she could feel its warmth.
‘I should hope not,’ Kate retorted, edging backwards because the warmth was dangerous. ‘You can’t go around kissing all your colleagues. And that includes me. Apart from anything else, with me, anyway, it’s impractical. Think about it, Hamish! Starting something would be idiotic. You’re going home in less than three weeks and I’m here on a mission. It’s a perfect example of the wrong time and the wrong place.’
She was trying hard not to look directly at him—looking at Hamish being something more safely done from a distance—but she knew for sure he’d greeted this prime example of common sense with a frown.
Knew for sure he’d closed the gap between them once again!
‘Wrong time? Wrong place? Is there such a thing with kisses?’ he demanded, then, without waiting for her answer, his lips closed on hers, warm and firm and all-encompassing, claiming her mouth like a trophy, tempting her lips open with an inciting tongue, luring from her a response she knew she shouldn’t give.
The kiss lasted until her knees gave out and she slumped against his body.
‘Hamish!’