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* * *
Marty flew back to Retford a few days later in his own chopper to collect Hallie and Nikki, delivering them safely to Wetherby and deciding to stay the night.
Sometimes a bit of time with Pop in the shed, a night in his old bedroom, and a chat about nothing in particular with Hallie got his head straightened out. But it was not to be. Although he felt relaxed and happy in his old home, he also realised the problem that was Emma would never straighten out.
The best strategy, as he’d decided after the fateful kiss, was avoidance and although he dismissed moving to another base—he’s miss his family too much—if he kept busy, and found another woman to squire around town, then surely he wouldn’t see too much of her and that would be that.
But fate conspired against him.
He thought Carrie’s birthday celebration, on a Saturday night, would be okay because the girls were throwing the party for her. Marty knew Carrie was seeing a bit of Ned so he would be there for sure, and without the girls to babysit, Emma would be stuck at home.
Of course, that was before he’d heard about Christine, or learned that she was always happy to do extra hours, babysitting.
Neither had he heard about Andy.
Well, he knew Andy, had been at school with him, and although they didn’t see much of each other these days, they were still quite friendly.
Until his old school-mate arrived at the party with Emma, so it was a double shock. Seeing Emma, and, what was worse, seeing her with another man—particularly a man he liked and respected…
He prayed for a callout, because there was no other way he’d get out of his sister’s birthday party. But no matter how many times he checked that his phone was turned on and, no, there’d been no missed messages, no call came.
So he made himself useful, filling people’s glasses, passing around the canapes the girls had prepared, chatting to Pop and Hallie, and Carrie’s friends from school. Avoiding Emma and Andy and the group of locals who would normally have been his chosen company at any party.
But there were only so many glasses to be filled, and the canapés ran out so he sought refuge on the back veranda, only to back away through the door when he saw one of his nieces out there in the passionate embrace of what was probably a spotty youth.
He could leave.
He’d done his duty.
He found Mandy—so it was Molly on the veranda—in the kitchen and was about to say goodbye when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
He dug it out and positively beamed at it.
‘Have to go, pet,’ he said. ‘Lovely party, say goodbye to your mum for me.’
He kissed her cheek and slipped away, hurrying out the back way, so it wasn’t until he reached the gate that he realised someone was coming down the steps behind him.
‘Can you give me a lift?’
Of course, it was Emma!
‘Isn’t anyone else ever on callout duty at that hospital?’ he demanded, as heat and despair battled in his body.
‘Nope,’ she said, far too cheerfully. ‘You’re going to be stuck with me for a couple more months, at least while Paul’s still having chemo.’
The reminder made him feel terrible. Paul Robbins, father of four, had been diagnosed with lymphoma and although it was one of the less aggressive forms of the disease, he still had to undergo some treatment.
‘What have you heard?’ he asked, as he opened the vehicle door for her.
She turned to look at him as the interior lights came on, her face a little pale.
‘Possible heart attack, maybe stroke. It was a very confused call, out on some road I’ve never heard of where there’s no ambulance access. An old man in pain—a hermit of some kind? Somewhere between here and Wetherby, is it?’
He nodded, shutting the door as she settled in and hurrying around to the driver’s side.
‘Ken Irvine, he’s an old timber cutter who lives out in the bush.’
* * *
Emma had squashed herself as close to the door as possible in case the urge to touch Marty—just to feel the warmth of him—was made harder by an accidental brush of clothing. She’d been watching him—surreptitiously, she hoped—all evening, whilst keeping up with the conversation between Andy and the people he knew.
After all, she’d invited Andy, bumping into him down town where she’d been shopping for some new jeans. Thinking, hoping, needing a distraction from the man she couldn’t have…
Yet the minute Marty had walked in, she’d known it wasn’t going to work—that no matter who she saw, or met, they wouldn’t ever banish the memories of that kiss.
Which was ridiculous, because that’s all it had been—a kiss!
‘Do you know the place?’ she asked as the silence stretching between them reached snapping point.
