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Sensible talk—that was the way to handle the strangeness he was experiencing, which, as he now considered it, was probably caused by his having to leave her alone on the beach in the first place. It had brought out all his protective instincts, nothing more…
Izzy, obviously primed by Hallie, had Emma through the door and into the bathroom while he was barely out of the ute.
Mac met him on the wide veranda of the centuries-old doctor’s house.
‘You can use the back bathroom, I’ve put some dry duds in there,’ he said, waving Marty along the veranda, following to ask about the rescues, about the injuries to the burns victim, the hospital network having already filled Mac in on what had transpired during the afternoon.
‘At least the temperature and the wind have dropped,’ he said, ‘and the forecast for tomorrow is rain, so it should dampen what’s left of the fires on the coastal fringe, although those in the national park will be harder to stop.’
‘Great news,’ Marty replied, pleased to have talk of bushfires diverting his brain from its seeming obsession with Emma. He could do bushfire talk! ‘The firefighters will get a break, and with decent rain these might be the last of the fires for the season.’
‘Let’s hope so,’ Mac said. ‘I’ll leave you to have a shower, then Izzy’s made some sandwiches. If you want to get straight back to Braxton you can eat them on the way.’
Marty turned in the doorway of the bathroom that had been tacked onto the veranda at the back of the house.
‘Thanks, Mac, I appreciate it.’
Mac smiled at him.
‘That’s what family’s for,’ Mac reminded him.
Marty took the words into the shower with him and as the water splashed down over his body he thought of the main one—family. How lucky had he been to have landed with foster parents whose determination had been not merely to provide a home for abandoned or damaged children but to provide them with a family—to meld them into a family in the truest sense of the word—a group where they belonged?
But as he dressed in dry, borrowed clothes, his mind returned to Emma and her family—boys, Dad, her—but no wedding ring and no mention of a husband.
Not that it was any of his business, and neither was he interested in finding out more. He tried not to think about the fact that, given the gossip mill that was the hospital, he’d soon know everything there was to know about Emma Crawford, and probably far more than she wanted people to know.
He was smiling to himself as he pushed open the door into the kitchen and greeted Izzy with a kiss.
‘No Nikki?’ he asked, looking around the room, taking in Emma’s appearance in long shorts and a slightly too tight T-shirt, damp dark hair framing her face like a pixie’s in a story book.
‘Studying with her friend,’ Izzy explained. ‘Now, Emma’s having a cup of tea. Do you want one or do you need to get back to Braxton? I’ve made sandwiches to go if you can’t stay.’
‘We’ll go but take the sandwiches, not that I expect we’ll be able to eat them all because you know Hallie, she’ll have a basket of goodies already packed into the helicopter. But thanks.’
He dropped another kiss on her cheek, then bent and kissed her baby bump.
‘That’s from your Uncle Marty, Bump. I hope you’re behaving yourself in there.’
Mac and Izzy laughed, but although Emma smiled, he sensed a sadness in her.
Or maybe it was just plain exhaustion. For a first day at work, it had been a beauty!
‘Come on,’ he said to her. ‘Let’s get you home.’
Had he spoken too abruptly—too roughly—that she looked startled and stumbled slightly as she stood up, and her hand shook as she put her cup on the table?
‘Are you okay?’ he asked, when they’d said their goodbyes and were back in the ute.
‘Fine,’ she said quietly, ‘though I’ll be happy to get home. It’s been a long first day.’
* * *
But was she entirely happy to be going home?
Of course she was.
Then why the little niggle somewhere deep inside her that suggested she’d have liked to stay a little longer with Marty’s family, sitting in the kitchen, talking about nothing in particular?
She thrust the thought away, aware that it was something to do with being in a new town, and not having had time to make friends, her life revolving around the boys and now work.
‘Tired?’ Marty asked as they pulled up in the shed behind a huge old building.
‘I think I must be,’ Emma replied, deciding that would explain all the strange things going on in her head.
‘Well, I’ll have you home in no time,’ he told her as he led the way to where two elderly people waited by a little helicopter. ‘Do you have a car at the hospital?’
