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Isla nodded. ‘Logan wasn’t happy with his mum. He stomped around the house and slammed the door.’ She rummaged through the box for another crayon.
Gemma winced. The last thing she wanted was for her daughter to be exposed to any family arguments.
‘His mummy told him he was being stupid.’ Isla was saying it matter-of-factly as she finished her breakfast and her drawing.
Gemma bit her lip. She should cut this conversation dead—she knew she should. But curiosity was killing her. ‘Why did Mrs Scott say he was being stupid?’
Isla shrugged. ‘Not sure.’ Then it seemed as if a little brainwave hit her. ‘She called him something else too. Ir-irr-national.’
Gemma smiled at the mispronounced word. ‘Irrational?’
Isla nodded. Gemma could feel her heart rate quicken. Had they been discussing her? Had Logan told his mother about her? She cringed. And if he had, would the news travel? Would people start treating her differently?
Isla finished her drawing. ‘There. It’s for Logan. Do you think he’ll like it?’
She started. ‘You did a drawing for Logan? Why did you do that?’ She stared at the picture. Logan on his boat. Her cheeks flushed—automatically going to her last memories of being there.
She swallowed, despite the huge lump in her throat. Isla was smiling at her picture. ‘I think he’ll like it. He read me a book the other day about ten little tugboats. I think it’s my favourite now.’
Gemma tried not to grimace. She knew that Logan would see Isla at his mother’s house. But it was obvious that he wasn’t letting their fallout affect his relationship with Isla. In a way she should be happy. He was interacting with her daughter. He was forming a relationship with her and Isla obviously liked him. But she couldn’t bear the thought of them talking about her. She’d experienced that enough for one lifetime. And here it was, starting all over again.
It didn’t matter that it sounded as though Mary had tried to talk some sense into her son. Had told him he was being irrational. Mary had the same loyalties and ethics that he did. Claire was her daughter, just like she was his sister. But Mary obviously had the ability to step back and see the wider picture.
It was just a pity that Logan didn’t.
Gemma finished rinsing the plates and turned to face Isla. ‘Mum’s off today. Fancy going down to the beach with your fishing net and we’ll see what we can catch in the rock pools?’
‘Yeah!’ Isla jumped off her seat and scurried off to find her shoes. Gemma grabbed her jacket. She was determined to hold her head high. She’d made the right decision. And it was no one else’s business but hers.
Heaven help anyone who tried to tell her differently.
* * *
The tension in the air could be sliced through like a thick, double chocolate cake. But a big piece of chocolate cake would be much more enjoyable than this. It was affecting everything and everyone around them.
Julie was running around in the surgery like a headless chicken. She jumped every time he asked her to do something and barely looked him in the eye. Even his usual patients, who normally wanted to spend half their day in his consulting room, seemed to be catapulting in and out of the surgery. What on earth was going on?
He knew that Gemma was meeting today with Mags, the health visitor, and Edith, the midwife, to discuss some patients there were concerns over. But he hadn’t seen her at all today so had no idea what was going on.
He walked down the corridor to the staffroom, where he could smell the coffee brewing. The smell of coffee brewing in this place was like the Pied Piper with his magic pipe, usually luring all staff members out from their offices.
But the staffroom was empty as he walked in. Milk was sitting on the counter, along with a number of freshly washed cups. Someone had just been here.
He heard the low mumble of someone singing as he opened the cupboard in the search for some biscuits. Two minutes later the singing got a little clearer as Gemma walked in. She was wearing a red summer dress, a pair of flat sandals and her hair was loose around her shoulders.
Her whole body stiffened as soon as she saw him. ‘Oh, sorry, Logan. Didn’t realise you were here.’
Tension again. All around them. He eyed the packet of biscuits in her hand. ‘I was searching in the cupboard for something to eat—I see you were doing the same.’
Why had he felt the urge to fill the silence around them? Because, like it or not, and whether he understood her or not, he was drawn to Gemma like a magnet. It was driving him crazy. And probably making him unbearable.
He hated things that weren’t rational. He hated things that couldn’t be explained logically. Was it any wonder his friends nicknamed him Spock?
He’d spent a good part of the day with Isla yesterday. She was delightful. She was gorgeous. And she was getting under his skin every bit as much as her mother.
It didn’t matter that he’d been down this road before. It didn’t matter that he’d had a child torn away from him before. No one could help but enjoy her company and she was a happy, well-adjusted, sociable little girl.
If only he and her mother could be happy, well-adjusted, sociable adults.
Gemma gave a little nod and walked over to the counter, putting the biscuits down between them.
She looked gorgeous, and until she’d realised he was there, she’d looked calm and relaxed at her work. No. Happy. She’d looked happy at her work.
He watched as she filled a coffee cup and topped it up with milk. Yet again, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He wanted to. He wanted to just walk out and not look back. But his eyes were drawn by the curves in her dress and glimpse of tanned leg. She put the milk back in the refrigerator with a bang and spun around. ‘What? What is it you want, Logan? Is it to give me another lecture about a subject you know nothing about?’
He was taken aback by her venom. He’d been staring. He’d been following her every move and she’d noticed.
She tilted her chin and straightened her shoulders. ‘What do you want, Logan, because I’m sick of the atmosphere in this place.’ Her words were definite. It was clear she wasn’t going to move until this was resolved.
He filled up his cup slowly, trying to choose his words carefully.
The last few days had been a nightmare. He’d discussed with his mother his concerns about Claire. He’d almost fallen off his chair when she’d said that she thought the surrogacy option was worth looking into.
He couldn’t believe it and he’d exploded and ended up telling his mother all about Gemma and Isla.
He knew he shouldn’t have. It was Gemma’s business. And she probably hadn?
?t wanted to tell him in the first place. Now he looked back on the conversation he realised she’d probably felt backed into a corner and had had to speak.
And his reaction hadn’t been the best.
With hindsight, most of it had been shock value. And he hadn’t felt ready to sit down and be rational about it all. He still had so much guilt about Claire that he couldn’t even think straight.
But his mother had been blunt and to the point. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about.’ She’d pointed to her chest. ‘I’m Claire’s mother. I’m the one who should have realised she needed some time out and some help. You hardly see her. I see her every few days. If anyone should have noticed that something was wrong, it was me.’
And then he’d felt even more guilty about putting the burden of responsibility onto his mother. None of this was working out how he wanted.
Here he was, stuck in a kitchen with a woman who looked ready to kill him, and all he could think about was running his fingers through her hair or touching the tanned skin on her shoulders.
He took a deep breath. ‘Things aren’t great, are they?’ It was a simple enough statement. Acknowledging that something was wrong but not pointing the finger of blame anywhere.
Gemma thumped her coffee mug down, sloshing coffee all over the worktop. ‘And that’s your fault, Logan. You’ve been walking about here like a bear with a sore head, snapping at everyone who talks to you. It’s as if there is a permanent black thundercloud hanging over the top of your head. You’re the one that’s created an atmosphere.’
‘What?’ Of course he’d noticed the oppressive atmosphere. But he hadn’t realised that he was the cause. ‘I have not,’ he said, automatically on the defensive as he tried to remember the last few days.
Hmm. He might have been a little short with Julie. And he might have been a bit snappy with some of the rest of the staff too. Not deliberately. But just because his mind was so full of other things.
Other things like Gemma Halliday.
‘Do you know what? If you’re mad at me then be mad at me.’ She waved her arm. ‘Don’t be mad at everyone else. They don’t deserve it.’ She frowned at her cup, noticing the spilled coffee all over the worktop, then fixed him with a steely glare. ‘And to be frank, I don’t think I deserve it either.’
