Rescued: Mother and Baby

When Georgie woke up the next morning she was astonished to find it was after eight. She had fallen into bed soon after they’d finished getting the spare room ready and had gone out like a light. Probably something to do with yesterday’s unaccustomed exercise.

Throwing the bedclothes aside, she sprang out of bed. Normally Jess would have woken her long before now, jumping on the bed or crawling in beside her for a story, but the house was ominously quiet. She rushed to Jess’s room. It was empty. Where was she? Mary was going out for the day and had obviously gone already, so Jess couldn’t be with her. Kirk would have left for the hospital ages ago. Georgie was beginning to panic. Could Jess have let herself out of the house? What if she had wandered into the street? Or to the stream that flowed near the house?

Heart in mouth, Georgie charged into the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks. Jess was sitting at the table next to a bemused Logan, chatting away. In her panic Georgie had completely forgotten he had spent the night. She hadn’t heard him and Kirk come in.

Her daughter’s plump, toddler cheeks were flushed pink and her hair was a tangle of curls around her face. She looked, as usual, adorable. ‘Jess,’ Georgie breathed, almost dizzy with relief.

‘Mummy!’ Jess cried happily when she saw Georgie. ‘Uncle Logan’s been reading to me.’

Uncle Logan? Where had that come from? Jess was usually shy with strangers.

Amused, slightly stunned brown eyes found hers. ‘She toddled into the kitchen before Kirk left, wanting a story read to her, so I was happy to oblige. We enjoyed “The Enormous Crocodile” twice and before that we watched a DVD about some strange teddy bears with holes in their stomachs—um, let me see, three times, or was it four?’

Poor Logan. He obviously hadn’t a clue that there was nothing Jess liked more than undivided attention. And equally obviously he had never been confronted with the Teletubbies either!

‘You should have sent Jess in to me,’ she remonstrated softly, feeling slightly guilty. ‘I’m usually up by now. I don’t know how I managed to sleep through my alarm…’

‘Your mother wanted to wake you, but I said to let you sleep as long as possible.’

‘Oh! How long have you been up?’

‘Since six. Don’t worry, that’s my usual time.’ Logan grinned, his eyes creasing at the corners, and Georgie’s heart tumbled. His eyes travelled across her body and she blushed as she realised she was only wearing pyjama bottoms and a very skimpy top. Hastily, she retreated out of the kitchen.

‘I’ll just get dressed. Then I’ll make us some breakfast,’ she said over her shoulder.

‘Take your time, Jess and I have had porridge oats already,’ came the amused reply. ‘And I think there are still several books in Jess’s pile.’

After a hasty shower and a too-long dither over what to wear, Georgie settled on black jeans and a moss-green V-neck jersey before returning to the kitchen. Logan and Jess were still at the table looking at books, but Georgie was sure his eyes were beginning to glaze over. There was, after all, only so much of books for a three-year-old anyone, except a parent, could take. Thinking of which, she still didn’t know whether he was married and had children. Someone this comfortable with a three-year-old was bound to have his own. Dismayed at the stab of disappointment she felt at the thought, Georgie picked Jess up and squeezed her tight.

‘I think we’d better give Uncle Logan…’ she slid a pointed look in his direction ‘…a little break, don’t you?’

Jess was bubbling over with excitement ‘He’s been telling me about the ‘copter he flies and he says he’s going to work in your hospital, Mummy. Is that true? Can he live with us and Granny in Glasgow?’

‘Logan will want to stay in his own house, mo ghaol. Now, off you go and get dressed. Call me if you need help.’ The thought of Logan living with them was sending all sorts of unwanted fantasies fizzing around her brain.

Georgie placed her daughter back on her feet and gently prodded her in the direction of her bedroom. Jess, with a great show of reluctance, left them alone.

‘Speaking of which, where is the flat you’ve rented in Glasgow?’ Georgie asked politely.

‘On the Clyde, overlooking the river. It’s small but has everything I need. Down to the latest music system. It’s also handy for the hospital.’

‘And will your family be joining you?’ Georgie asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

As he quirked an eyebrow in her direction she added hastily, ‘You seem so comfortable with Jess I thought you must be used to kids.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

Logan grinned ruefully. ‘Nope. No wife. No nephews, no nieces. Or brothers or sisters.’

‘What, none at all? What about your parents?’ She was doing it again. Opening her mouth before she had engaged her brain.

Once again a strange look crossed Logan’s features.

‘They’re dead. When I was a kid,’ he said shortly.

Georgie could have bitten her tongue. She had gone in there with two big feet. How terrible to grow up without parents. It really was time she learned when to keep her mouth shut.

Before she could apologise, Logan held up a hand. ‘Would you mind if we changed the subject?’ Although his voice was light, there was a tightness around his mouth that told Georgie he was hurting.

Georgie switched on the kettle, glad that she had her back to him so that he wouldn’t see her confusion—or her pity. She knew instinctively that Logan would hate sympathy. But someone must have brought him up. An aunt perhaps? Grandparents? Why, then, the reference to the army being his family? She wanted to know more. She wanted to know everything about this man. And he wasn’t married. That shouldn’t make a difference to her but it did. She was burning with curiosity, but his expression made it clear that the subject was closed. At least for now.

‘Coffee?’ she asked.

Logan shook his head.

‘I think it’s time I went to the hospital to collect Jack. I’m sure he’s desperate to see his folks.’ He was no longer the smiling, relaxed man of earlier. His voice was stiff and his eyes hooded. It seemed her open curiosity had upset or annoyed him.

There was nothing for it but to call the taxi for him, and they waited for the few minutes it took to arrive in uncomfortable silence. When the taxi tooted its arrival, Logan stood and held out his hand. Still bewildered, Georgie shook it.

‘Please thank your mother for me—and Kirk. Tell him the information he gave me will be invaluable.’ Just then Jess appeared at the doorway, dressed in a bizarre combination of dress and shorts. Despite the tension in the room, Georgie had to smile. It was typical of her daughter. If she couldn’t choose what to wear, she simply wore everything she fancied.

Jess ran up to Logan and flung her arms around his legs.

‘Are you coming back?’ she asked, tilting her head up to read his expression.

Logan crouched down beside her, his face relaxing into a smile. ‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘But perhaps I’ll see you in Glasgow? I’ll certainly be seeing your mum there.’ He turned to Georgie, looking as if he was about to say something. But when the taxi gave another impatient toot of its horn, Logan sketched a wave and left them alone.

In the taxi, Logan sank back against the seat, his mind filled with images of Georgie. Her red curls, framing a delicate face; her impish smile that couldn’t quite disguise the sadness in her grey eyes. He thought about the lie he had told her. It was one he was used to telling when anyone asked, but it didn’t make him feel any better—although his parents might as well be dead. Over the years he had said it so often, sometimes he almost believed it. What was the alternative? Telling people that his mother had abandoned him to the care system when he was just two years old—younger than Jess. It had been bad enough when he’d been a child in school. His teachers had treated him differently when they’d known he was in care. They’d expected him to show behavioural problems—and so he had. He’d kept getting into trouble. Nothing too serious—a broken window, playing truant—but it had been enough to convince his teachers he had no future. If it hadn’t been for the army cadet programme one of his care workers had suggested, he probably would have lived up to everyone’s expectations and amounted to nothing. But the discipline of army life had suited him. He had buckled down at school and made something of his life. If his teachers knew he had made it through medical school, they wouldn’t believe it. He owed the army big-time.