Wanted: A Father for her Twins

‘I got a personal best time for the sand sprint. Did you see me?’

‘I was watching but you were going so fast you were just a blur!’ Rosie hugged the little girl, pulling her into her side. Lucy chatted non-stop as they climbed the path leading from the beach to the esplanade, only pausing for breath once she had her usual post-training Sunday milkshake in hand.

Coming out of Marie’s Milk Bar, Rosie nearly tripped over a small dog that dashed past the entrance. She stopped suddenly and felt Lucy bump into her back. A young boy ran past, calling out to the dog. The dog had no intention of obeying and dashed out into the road.

She could see disaster unfolding in front of her.

‘Stop!’ she yelled, but the boy neither paused nor looked as he chased the animal. Rosie watched with horror as a car swerved sharply to the left to miss the dog, colliding instead with the child.

The car wasn’t travelling quickly, the esplanade was too narrow and too busy for that, but it still struck the boy with enough force to send him spinning up into the air before he crashed to the bitumen.

Traffic came to a stop and the hum of dozens of conversations ceased as people processed what had just happened. For a brief moment there was silence before voices began again and witnesses and bystanders swarmed onto the road.

‘Wait here,’ Rosie said to Lucy, handing over her takeaway latte before joining the gathering crowd.

‘I’m a doctor.’ Rosie raised her voice as she pushed her way through the throng. ‘Let me through.’

The driver, a young female, emerged from the car, shaky and pale. ‘I didn’t see him, I didn’t have time to stop.’

‘Someone call an ambulance and get this woman to sit down.’ The woman would be in shock. Rosie doubted she was injured but, if she was, her injuries would need to wait. The priority was the boy.

He was lying in a crumpled heap on the road, blood spilling from a gash on his head. The car that had hit him was protecting them both from the traffic and Rosie didn’t think they were in any immediate danger from that angle. She knelt down beside the child. He was breathing but his eyes were closed. Was he conscious? She gently shook his shoulder, asking him if he could hear her. There was no response.

‘Can I help?’ Rosie felt, rather than saw, a man crouch down beside her. She didn’t look up from her examination of the little boy, but she didn’t need to look up to know the man was from New Zealand. The inflection on his vowels told her that. ‘I’m a doctor.’

‘Thanks.’ She also didn’t have to look up to know he was tall, and together with the quiet, calm confidence in his voice, it made his presence even more reassuring. ‘He’s breathing but unconscious.’

‘Was there anyone with him? Does anyone know his name?’

Lucy appeared by Rosie’s side, cradling the runaway dog in her arms. ‘Rosie, it’s Matt. From school. Do you want me to get his mum?’

Rosie didn’t want to think about how, or where, Lucy had cornered the dog, but she would like to see Matt’s mum. She glanced up at her skinny-legged niece, her knees covered in bits of grass and sand. ‘Is she here?’

‘I don’t think so but I know where they live.’

Sending Lucy off on her own wasn’t an option. ‘Maybe we can ring her?’

‘I’ll do it.’ Marie from the milk bar was standing behind Lucy.

‘Thanks.’ Rosie nodded at the woman. ‘Go with Marie, Luce, and see if you can reach Matt’s mum.’

‘The ambulance is on its way.’ Someone from the crowd passed this information on.

‘Matt, can you hear me? Matt?’ The other doctor was talking and Rosie turned back to the boy, relieved to find his eyes were now open. ‘Hi, there, mate. Lie still, you’ve had a tussle with a car. My name’s Nick, I’m a doctor, and I’m just going to check a few things out. This is…’

He paused and Rosie knew he was waiting for her response. She looked at him properly for the first time and, as their eyes met, she felt a bolt of attraction so strong it made her catch her breath. What an incongruous reaction, she thought as she managed to answer, ‘Rosie.’ Her voice came out as a whisper.

‘She’s a doctor too.’

Rosie had to force herself to concentrate as they both turned their attention back to Matt. She applied pressure to the gash in Matt’s head, using a clean beach towel from her bag, and took his pulse with her other hand.

‘Where does it hurt?’ Nick asked.

‘My arm and my leg.’ His right leg was bloodied and there was already significant swelling around his knee.

‘Can you wriggle your toes?’

Matt could move his toes but moving his foot seemed to cause him pain. Rosie watched as Nick ran his large hands gently over Matt’s leg, feeling for any major trauma. Matt had probably sustained a fractured fibula and possibly even tibia but, as his leg was still straight, Rosie suspected it wasn’t too bad. As she listened to Nick’s examination she couldn’t help but catch glimpses of him whilst checking her watch and timing Matt’s pulse.

His jaw was strong, slightly square in shape without being heavy, and darkened by a shadow of a beard, as if he hadn’t shaved for a day or two. He had fabulous cheekbones, a narrow nose, not too big and not too small, and the fullest lips she’d ever seen on a man, a perfect cupid’s bow. The masculine strength of his facial bone structure saved his nose and mouth from looking almost too perfect. His dark hair was thick and wavy with a cowlick at the front.

He squatted beside Rosie, his shoulders higher than hers, and she guessed he was taller than she was by several inches, no mean feat when she was five feet ten inches. His limbs were long and lean and he looked in good physical shape. She was glad she was the one applying pressure to the wound, leaving her free to soak in his image. Not that she was interested in him, of course. She didn’t even have time to put the washing away, so how would she ever have time to meet another man? But a girl would have to be comatose not to appreciate pure aesthetic male beauty when she was staring right at it.

‘How about your fingers?’ Nick asked the boy.

Matt was clutching his right arm, trying to keep it immobile, but managed to wriggle his fingers.

‘Can you tell me what day it is?’

‘Friday?’

The uncertainty in Matt’s reply told them what they needed to know. There was no need to tell him it was Sunday but he obviously had concussion.

‘Matt, you’ve broken your arm and your leg, I’ll need you to keep lying as still as you can for a little bit longer,’ Nick instructed.

Rosie heard the wail of an ambulance siren in the distance and as she tilted her head to listen to make sure it was coming closer, she saw Marie and Lucy returning. Marie gave her a thumbs-up signal.

Rosie deliberately trained her eyes on Matt as she spoke, not willing to risk losing her breath again if she accidentally sneaked a glance at her temporary colleague. ‘Your mum is on her way and I’ll wait with you until the ambulance gets here. It will take you and your mum to the hospital.’ Rosie kept hold of Matt’s good hand while she kept the pressure on his head wound with her other hand. A single tear rolled down his cheek. ‘It’ll be okay, Matt. You’re being very brave.’

Nick stood up, stretching his legs and distracting Rosie. He was wearing a T-shirt and boardshorts that showed off tanned, muscular calves. Where had he been when the accident happened? Had he just been for a swim? She looked up further. His hair was clean and dry so perhaps he was just on his way to the beach. As she watched, he ran his hand through the front of his hair, pushing it off his face from where it fell from the cowlick. He really was striking.

A siren’s ‘whoop, whoop’ pierced the air as the ambulance manoeuvred the final distance through the traffic. In the next moment Matt’s mother arrived and Rosie went to comfort her and explain the situation while Nick filled the paramedics in.

The paramedics did their checks, popped a cervical brace around Matt’s neck as a precaution, stabilised his arm and splinted his leg before rolling him onto the stretcher. In a few minutes Matt and his mother were being whisked off to hospital.

Just like that, everything was back to normal, the crowd was dispersing, Marie had returned to her shop and the traffic was flowing freely again. The car that had hit Matt had been moved to the side of the road and the driver was giving her statement to a policeman. There was a sense of anticlimax. Only she, Lucy and Nick stood on the edge of the pavement. Despite being a doctor, she’d never been at the scene of an accident before. What happened next? Should she thank Nick for his help or simply say goodbye? As she stood there, pondering the dilemma, Lucy started asking questions, breaking the silence.

She expected Nick to head straight off but he stayed put, seemingly content to listen to her confident, chatty niece, so different from her twin. There didn’t seem to be anybody waiting for him. Maybe he was as uncertain of the etiquette of beachside medical emergencies as she was? She smiled at the idea; uncertainty was not a quality that fitted this man.

‘Thanks for your help, Nick.’ She met his gaze, still smiling. ‘Don’t let us hold you up.’

‘You’re not.’ He returned her smile and his was handsdown the most adorable, warming grin she’d ever been treated to. If he’d been good-looking before, he was drop-dead gorgeous now, his whole face lit up, his blue-grey eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve only got a half-drunk cup of coffee to get back to and it’ll be cold by now. Join me for a fresh cup.’ He spread his hands wide to include them both and Lucy immediately took a step closer to him. His was clearly a charm with crossgenerational power.

She was tempted to accept his invitation, purely so she had an excuse to sit and look at him for a bit longer, but, for a whole host of reasons, she really couldn’t. ‘Thanks, but we really need to get home. We’re late as it is.’ She didn’t have to pretend polite regret, her whole body was thrumming with a desire to go with him. A wave of disappointment slammed over her, leaving her reeling.

He nodded, accepting her decision, cocking his head to the side to indicate he was sorry they couldn’t stay. Then Lucy tugged on his hand and pulled him down to her. He stooped to hear her and as the pair of them chatted, Rosie simply stared at the moment of realisation she’d just had.

If she’d been able to, she’d go with him anywhere, wherever he took her. She wouldn’t even have asked. She, who’d never been spontaneous, would have gone with a perfect stranger, no questions asked. She, who was cast in the perfect mould of a careful, methodical, responsible planner, would have tossed all that aside and simply held out her hand for him to take. But aunts responsible for the well-being of young twins didn’t have the luxury of being spontaneous, even if it had been in her to do so. It wasn’t in the job description of being the perfect guardian.