LITMIR.BIZ

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to be this uptight, afraid version.

      His phone received a text. Henry.

      Thanks, lad. Appreciate it.

      No problem.

      Had Henry shut down on his open loving side when his wife died in childbirth? Gone further into the deep when Nixon’s mother died? Did he hold the same fears?

      Oh, man.

      Occasionally Nixon had wondered about this but had always shaken it off as wrong. He wasn’t Henry’s child, he’d inherited different genes, and his mother, Henry’s sister, had been a happy, always laughing person. From what he knew and remembered. None of this had crossed Nixon’s mind before. He could very possibly be a chip off the old block. Might’ve learned from his uncle how to hold everything in. They both kept their feelings close to their chests. Didn’t rush around hugging friends and family.

      You hugged Emma earlier.

      Yeah, well, Emma.

      Now what? Carry on with no hope of it being anything more? Or try to let go of the restraints and open up, risk his heart and see where that led? Instantly his belly tightened and his heart slowed as though it were withdrawing from this crazy idea, protecting itself. It was far wiser to stick with the current way of doing things. But was that truly what he wanted?

      ‘You going to sit there staring at the floor all evening?’ Emma muttered from the bed.

      ‘It’s a damned nice floor.’ Grey vinyl wasn’t really his thing.

      She chuckled.

      That chuckle crept into places that had remained cold since the day the social worker had picked him up from school and delivered him to Uncle Henry. The warmth Emma engendered made going for a diversion imperative. He wasn’t ready to follow that warmth. ‘Easier than deciding who to employ for the summer rush.’

      ‘Which started a week ago, in case you hadn’t noticed. The day the spring rush finished.’ Emma shuffled up the bed, wincing. ‘We’ve already had numerous broken bodies in ED from mountain day trippers going off track and getting caught by unseasonal storms.’

      ‘I’ll never understand why visitors to the region don’t read the weather warnings.’ Nixon stood to arrange the pillows more comfortably behind her back. Doctor mode to the fore. Really? Yes, really. ‘Tell that to the CEO. We’re up to our ears in patients and he’s still saying wait. My problem is the doctor I want to take on won’t hang around for ever. She’s had another offer in Christchurch, a better one I suspect, but with a sister already working here she’d prefer our neck of the woods.’

      ‘The joys of being the boss. Glad I’m only a nurse.’

      ‘No such thing as just a nurse.’ Especially Emma, a dedicated carer if ever he’d met one. ‘How’s the body feeling?’

      ‘Like it fell off Ben Lomond, rolled down the mountain and finished up in a ravine. Just like your earlier patient.’

      ‘That good? Want to go mountain-bike riding tomorrow?’ he teased.

      ‘Sit on one of those hard, narrow bike seats after what I’ve been through?’ She shuddered and scrunched up her lovely face. ‘Haven’t you got work to do? Paperwork if nothing else.’

      ‘I’m done for the day.’ He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘The weather forecast predicts no wind and warm temperatures. Perfect for hitting the trail out to Jack’s Point Pass.’

      Emma shook her head at him. ‘Your calf muscles must hate you sometimes.’

      If he were open to more than casual friendships, he’d suggest they pack a picnic and take Rosie up the track out of Arrowtown one day soon. If. A friendship on that scale with Emma and her daughter could eventually expose his need for more and as he was her boss that couldn’t happen. He never dated women he worked with. It got complicated when the three-date rule was enacted. He still didn’t understand why he’d asked her out that time. Except that she was gorgeous. ‘You decided where you’re going to spend tonight?’

      ‘I guess I’ll go out to the Valley. It’s the soft option but sometimes it’s nice to let Mum take over with Rosie. I kind of want my family around too.’

      Not him. Friends only. Not so close they shared everything. ‘You don’t want to stay in town without Rosie, do you?’

      Emma stared at him, blinking twice and swallowing hard. ‘No.’ Another swallow. ‘I need to hug and touch her, or just watch over her. I need to be a mum tonight.’ Sadness flicked through her eyes and was gone.

      It was hard not to reach for her hands, wrap his fingers around them and give her his warmth and strength. He all but sat on his hands in case Emma misinterpreted the gesture. ‘You are allowed to be shaken up by it all, you know? No one’s going to give you a hard time for feeling down about not having this time with Grace.’

      Her left foot jiggled continuously as she nodded slowly. ‘I get that. But knowing that and experiencing it are different. I’m not saying I’d change a thing. Of course I wouldn’t. That baby’s always been Abbie’s. I don’t even want another child. I’ve got the most adorable daughter and no time or energy to spare for bringing up a second child.’ She stared out of the window.

      She was an awesome mum, the kind he’d want for his children. If he was ever to have a family. He’d love his own kids, sometimes imagined holding his daughter, playing ball in the yard with his son, pouring into them all the love he knew he held inside. After he found the right woman and loved her to the edge and back—but that wasn’t happening. He was a screw-up, had loved his family too hard and deep so that the loss had cut the ground out from under him, left him unable to understand who he was any more. Left him afraid to love without reservation. Hence flings were the way to go. Fun, carefree and over before the trouble started.

      Nixon’s heart pushed the barriers back in place that Emma didn’t know she’d shunted sideways. What was he thinking here? Get back on track. Concentrate on Emma and what she wanted. ‘Rosie’s a lucky girl with a great mum. What more does she need?’ Nixon felt that protective surge for Emma stir, the one that came to the fore at inopportune moments. It sat up and expanded into...? What? The need to look out for her shouldn’t cause this sense of leaning too far out over a cliff, of hovering on the point of no return.

      Leave. Now. Go home and grab the bike, put in a couple of hours’ hard pedalling. Break out a sweat, make the muscles ache, and silence the infuriating brain.

      His legs weren’t behaving; they were suddenly lifeless, keeping him stuck on the chair. As though they were saying Emma needed his strength at the moment and he couldn’t take it away, no matter the cost to him. Whatever the hell that cost might be. Just some strange, gut-tightening, emotion-expanding thing going on in his head, his body. His heart. His heart? Get away.

      ‘She’s unlucky not to have a dad.’ She blinked at him. ‘Forget I said that.’

      Slap. Rosie’s father. Nixon slowly leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. Did she still love the guy? ‘How long were you married?’

      ‘Nearly three years.’ No emotion coloured her voice, or her gaze. None at all. Hiding her feelings?

      Talk about derailing the conversation off post-birthing blues. Only problem was, he seemed to have hit as big a bump in the road. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’

      ‘Why shouldn’t you? It’s no secret.’ Was that anger firing up in her eyes? ‘Broken marriages are as common as muck.’

      ‘I suppose.’

      ‘Alvin saved me the hassle of a divorce by getting himself killed in a pub brawl up north in Kaikohe.’ Emma’s mouth was tight.

      ‘Jeez, Emma, you’ve had a rough time of it.’

      ‘You have no idea.’

      ‘Yet look what you’ve done for Abbie. You’re tough, and kind, and full of love.’

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