The Honourable Army Doc (6 page)

‘She went looking for company and she found it. We both know that we never would have lasted as a couple if Julieanne hadn’t fallen pregnant. Apart from the girls, we didn’t really have much in common when it came down to it. We got divorced, she moved back down here and we’re trying to do the best we can. Which brings me to you.’

‘I have nothing that can compare to that.’

‘I find that hard to believe. No broken engagements, no ex-husbands, no jealous boyfriends?’

Ali shook her head. ‘A couple of ex-boyfriends but they’re ancient history and certainly not the jealous type. My life sounds incredibly dull. In fact, it actually is depressingly dull.’ She wondered what he would say if she told him that meeting him had been the most exciting thing that had happened to her in a long time.

‘Maybe I can spice things up for you.’

‘I’ve no doubt you could,’ she replied with a smile as she finished her wine.

‘I’d like to offer you another drink but I’d better get home,’ he said as he checked his watch. ‘Can I take you out again, though? Properly? For dinner?’

He was asking her on a date! A proper date
, she thought as she stood and let him help her into her coat. Her heart was beating so furiously she was convinced everyone in the room must be able to hear it. She tried not to let her excitement show as she said, ‘It sounds lovely but are you sure you have the time and energy for that?’

‘You give me the energy,’ he said as he took her hand. Her heart raced as his fingers wrapped around hers. His hand was warm, his grip firm but gentle, and Ali was quite happy to let him hold her hand as he walked her home.

‘Everything else is taking a piece of me, bit by bit, and at times I feel as though I’m in danger of disappearing, but when I’m with you I feel that everything will turn out okay,’ he said as they stopped at her front door. ‘Can we make a date for next weekend?’

‘I’d like that.’

Quinn reached towards her with his free hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before he bent his head. Ali held her breath. Was he going to kiss her? She wanted to close her eyes, ready to savour his touch, but she forced herself to keep her eyes open, waiting and watching to see what he would do. She waited until his lips met hers before she shut her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in his touch. She parted her lips in response to his urging and allowed herself to get lost in his taste.

He tasted like whisky, of malt and warmth. His lips were soft but the pressure was firm. He wasn’t asking her permission, he was taking what he wanted, but she had no objections. She was more than willing to give herself to him.

The scratch of his stubble was rough in contrast to his lips but not unpleasant. Definitely not unpleasant. She pressed up against him, wanting to feel his body against hers. He let go of her hand and pulled her closer to him, his hand on her bottom, holding her hips
against his. She could feel his arousal, his hard maleness pressed against her stomach. She wound her hands behind his neck as he increased the pressure of his tongue against hers. His short spiky hair was soft under her fingers, much softer than she’d expected.

She didn’t know if the kiss lasted one minute or ten and she didn’t care. All she knew was that it was the best thing that had happened to her in a long time and when he stopped all she could think was,
No, don’t
.

He was breathing deeply, his eyes dark under the night sky as he looked at her. Ali was panting, her breaths coming in rapid, short little bursts.

‘I really have to go,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow but don’t forget…’ he was grinning now and he looked just like she felt, excited, full of anticipation and expectation ‘…we have a date next weekend.’

That wasn’t something she was likely to have trouble remembering.

He kissed her again. Briefly this time. ‘Sleep tight.’

Ali wrapped her arms around her chest, hugging herself, wanting to prolong the feeling of euphoria that spread through her as she watched him walk out the gate. She knew she had a ridiculous cheesy grin plastered on her face as she closed the front door but she didn’t care. She was going to savour this moment and enjoy the memory for the rest of the night. ‘I won’t forget,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I won’t forget any of it.’

Ali

‘H
I, COME ON IN.
’ Ali opened the door and Beth and Eliza bounded into the house while Quinn followed at a more sedate pace. He let the girls skip ahead and put one hand on Ali’s hip as he bent his head and kissed her on her mouth. Her lips parted in response to his pressure and her heart rate skyrocketed as Quinn deepened the kiss. He tasted warm and sweet; all traces of the maltiness of the Scotch had long since disappeared but he still tasted wonderful.

‘I’ve been looking forward to that all week,’ he said as his mouth left hers.

‘Me too,’ she replied. Her cheeks were flaming and her heart was still beating wildly in her chest. She could feel it beating against her ribs, making her breathless.

‘These are for you.’ Quinn handed her a bunch of magenta-coloured lilies.

Ali raised her eyebrows. ‘They’re not pink.’ Her hands shook as she took the flowers from him. She was
full of nervous anticipation at the idea of having him in her home, even if they weren’t going to have privacy.

‘That’s because I chose them without the girls. The colour reminded me of your lips. They’re to say thanks for having all of us.’

The week since Quinn’s birthday had flown by but he’d had no free time. She had seen him at work but they had both been busy, which had left no time for anything more than a shared smile and a longing, heated glance. Today was supposed to be their first date and Ali hadn’t planned on sharing it with the twins, but when Quinn had phoned to tell her he would have the girls with him Ali had quickly adapted her plans and decided she would give Quinn his first cooking lesson. There was no reason why the girls couldn’t join in too.

‘And to apologise for ruining our first date,’ he added.

‘Don’t be silly, it’s fine.’ Ali was disappointed, she had planned on having Quinn to herself, but she consoled herself with the fact that this was better than nothing and shelved her lustful thoughts for what she hoped would be another time. ‘How’s Julieanne feeling?’

‘Tired,’ Quinn replied. ‘I’m worried about her.’

Ali knew that Julieanne had fallen over a couple of times in the past few days . Her balance was being affected by the tumour as her condition continued to deteriorate. ‘Do you want to leave the girls with me and go home?’ Ali asked. She still felt weird discussing Quinn’s ex-wife with him but she couldn’t ignore her existence or her illness. Julieanne was the elephant in the room, albeit a very tiny one.

Quinn shook his head. ‘Quite the opposite,’ he said. His extraordinary blue eyes held her gaze, leaving her in no doubt as to how he felt. Ali’s heart skipped a beat as the intensity of his gaze melted any resistance she might have had. ‘I’d like to have you to myself but Julieanne wants peace and quiet, which means she needs the girls out of the house for a while. Helen is with her, she doesn’t need me.’

‘That’s good news for me, then,’ Ali said as she stepped back to let Quinn into her home.

The girls had found their way to the family room at the back of the house, adjacent the large, modern kitchen. Displayed on just about every horizontal surface around the family room were ornamental elephants. Beth was gently holding an elephant that had been embellished with an ornate pink head covering.

‘Do you like elephants?’ she asked Ali.

‘Those belong to my mum.’

‘Why are they in your house?’

‘This is my mum and dad’s house,’ Ali told her as she filled a vase with water for Quinn’s flowers.

‘Where are they?’ Eliza asked.

‘They’re away on holiday,’ Ali replied.

Eliza picked up a photo frame from a bookcase. ‘Is this them?’

Beth pointed to the man standing beside Ali in the photo. ‘Is that your husband, Ali?’

‘That’s my brother. I don’t have a husband.’

‘Why not?’

‘Girls,’ Quinn reprimanded, ‘stop asking so many questions. Ali doesn’t have to have a husband.’

‘Of course she does,’ Beth argued. ‘Don’t you want to have kids?’ she asked Ali.

‘You don’t have to have a husband to have kids,’ Eliza said, directing her comment at her sister.

‘I know that but Mum says it’s easier if you have a husband.’

Ali knew that comment would have hurt Quinn. She knew it weighed on his conscience that he hadn’t made a success of his marriage. She wondered if he’d ever be prepared to go down that path again. She wondered, not for the first time, if she was making a mistake by getting close to him. And his girls. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. She was irresistibly drawn to him.

She glanced at him. She could see the shadow behind his blue eyes. When he was deep in thought his azure blue eyes darkened, as though someone had turned down the light that usually shone from behind them.

‘Mum might be right but only if you have the right sort of husband,’ he told his daughters.

‘What’s the right sort?’ Eliza asked.

‘Someone who isn’t scared of spiders,’ said Beth.

‘Someone who can open the jar of strawberry jam,’ Eliza added, then both girls dissolved in fits of giggles.

The girls’ comments made Ali and Quinn smile. ‘What about someone who can cook?’ Ali asked.

The girls’ giggles intensified and the subject was changed. ‘Dad can’t cook.’

‘I thought that’s why we were here,’ Quinn teased. ‘If Ali teaches you two how to cook, I won’t have to learn.’

‘Dad!’

‘You’re
all
going to help me,’ Ali told them.

‘Really?’ Beth and Eliza asked in unison.

‘Yes. I’ve picked easy, yummy dishes that I used to help my mum make when I was much younger than you. They’re so easy even your dad will be able to handle them,’ she said, making the girls giggle again.

Ali had spent the morning working out what to cook and gathering the ingredients. It couldn’t be anything too difficult, she didn’t want to frighten Quinn, and it had to be something the girls would eat.

‘What are we making?’

‘Chicken kebabs with a dipping sauce and naan bread,’ Ali answered the twins. ‘I thought the two of you could make the bread and your dad can barbecue everything.’

‘Can you teach us how to make those sweets you brought to Dad’s party?’

‘Burfi?’ she asked, and then nodded. ‘After we’ve prepared everything else, okay?’

Ali handed aprons to everyone and instructed them all to wash their hands. She set up two work stations, one for the girls and one for Quinn. She pulled things from the fridge, passing a parcel of chicken thighs and two bowls of marinade to Quinn before putting a handful of bamboo skewers in water to soak.

‘You can dice the chicken for me,’ she told Quinn. ‘You’re aiming for consistent one-inch cubes. Then you’re going to thread the chicken onto the skewers and spoon the marinade over.’

‘Why wouldn’t I just buy ready-made skewers?’

Ali sighed and shook her head in mock despair. ‘Because this tastes so much better and you get the satisfaction
of making something yourself.’ She had pre-made the marinades for the chicken, one tandoori and one tikka, but she had planned on letting Quinn take one short-cut, and one only. ‘I’ll tell you which pre-prepared marinades you’re allowed to buy but you’re much better off using fresh chicken that you prepare. You know how dicey raw chicken can be. I’ve got extra marinade so if you like it I’ll send that home with you.’

Ali had planned to share a beer with Quinn while she taught him his way around the kitchen but instead she had to leave him to get on with his tasks while she helped the girls with the naan bread. They measured and mixed the ingredients and then Ali let them take turns to knead the dough. As a child she had always loved getting her hands messy and the twins were no different.

‘Okay, the dough has to rest now, which means you leave it to sit and rise. It’ll get bigger as long as we leave it somewhere warm and while we wait I’ll teach you how to make the dipping sauce.’ Ali covered the dough with a tea towel and set it on the kitchen bench.

‘I’m done,’ Quinn said as he put the final skewer into the dish and spooned the marinade over.

‘Good. Now you can make a green salad,’ Ali said as she covered the dish.

‘What? I don’t get to escape to the barbecue now?’

‘Not yet. The meat needs to go into the fridge for a bit to give the flavours time to get into the chicken.’

Ali put the dishes into the fridge and passed Quinn the salad vegetables. She sat at the kitchen bench and supervised Quinn as she simultaneously instructed the girls how to make cucumber and mint raita.

Ali had spent many hours at this bench, watching and helping her mother cook. In her family, preparing, cooking and sharing meals was one way they expressed love and affection so, for Ali, today was more than just about teaching Quinn how to cook a healthy meal, it was a way to express her feelings without words. She enjoyed cooking and as much as she had been looking forward to spending the afternoon with Quinn she found she was enjoying the girls’ company too. She let herself imagine, just briefly, what it would be like to have a family of her own. What it would be like to have a husband and children. It was still something she longed for and knowing it wasn’t possible wasn’t enough to stop the dreams.

‘Does this pass muster?’ Quinn’s question interrupted her daydreaming.

Ali inspected his salad. ‘Not bad.
Now
you can barbecue.’

Once she had given Quinn the items he needed for the barbecue and shown him outside to the patio and barbecue area, she gave the twins their final task. ‘Beth and Liza, you can roll out the bread now.’ She floured the bench and plopped the dough into the flour. ‘Use your hands to roll it into a log so that it looks like a cardboard tube and then slice it into twelve equal pieces.’ Ali started rolling as She spoke, her hands working automatically to shape the dough. ‘Then roll each piece flat so it looks like a pancake.’ She pulled a small piece from the end to show the girls what she meant before merging it with the rest of the dough again. ‘Put them
onto this tray and when you’ve done them all bring them out and your dad can cook them on the barbecue.’

It was a simple task, one she thought they could manage unsupervised, leaving her free to have a few minutes alone with Quinn.

‘I think you deserve this,’ she said, as she went out to the terrace and handed him an icy-cold beer. He had the first of the skewers cooking on the hot plate and the spicy tandoori aromas were beginning to permeate the air.

‘Are you okay?’ Ali asked, as Quinn took a long draught of the beer. ‘The girls’ comments didn’t upset you?’

‘Their comments about what it takes to be a good husband?’

Ali nodded her head as she sipped her drink.

‘I don’t think they meant it personally,’ he replied, ‘but I have to admit I wasn’t a very good husband.’ He shrugged and added, ‘But Julieanne wasn’t a great wife. We were not a match made in heaven, as they say, and I don’t think we were meant to get married. We wouldn’t have married if it wasn’t for the pregnancy. We thought,
I
thought, we were doing the right thing but it was a mistake. The marriage, not the pregnancy,’ he clarified. ‘The pregnancy was unplanned but we have never told the girls that. I didn’t want them growing up thinking they weren’t wanted. That’s not something a child should ever hear.’

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘Sorry.’ He smiled, his brilliant blue eyes flashing, ‘I’m fine, just remembering why I insisted we get married.
My father instilled a sense of duty in me from a very young age. He married my mother because he got her pregnant and he made no secret of the fact that he felt it was his duty and that he hadn’t planned on having kids. I spent my life trying to be the perfect son to make up for ruining his life but then I met Julieanne and something about her triggered a rebellious streak in me. And then, when Julieanne fell pregnant, I found myself trapped by duty in exactly the same way my father had been. Until then I had spent my life trying to make myself into the perfect son, someone a father could love and be proud of, and then I ended up repeating his mistakes.’

‘But he must be proud of you all the same?’

‘I’ll never know. He never said as much. My parents were killed in a light plane crash before the twins were born. The girls are named after my mother. She would have loved being a grandmother and maybe becoming a grandfather would have mellowed my father. I just don’t know. I’m not sure if he was ever proud of me but I think he wasn’t disappointed.’ Quinn shrugged his shoulders as if to shake off the memories. ‘Anyway, I had a vision of the type of father I’d be but it’s harder than I thought. I just hope I’m a better father than I was a husband.’

Ali wondered if his past history had put him off marriage permanently but she wasn’t about to ask. There was no subtle way of posing that question so she chose to reassure him about his other concern. ‘If it makes you feel better, Julieanne thinks you’re a good father.’

‘I hope she’s right.’

‘Do you want to ring and check how she is?’

‘No. Helen will ring me if there’s a problem. Let’s just enjoy the few moments we have to ourselves. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.’

Ali smiled. She had to agree. The afternoon was turning out to be almost perfect.

Dinner was pronounced a success. The girls had made short work of the barbecued chicken skewers and mopped up their raita with the naan bread and Ali was thinking about clearing the table when Quinn’s phone rang.

Ali could hear from his side of the conversation that it was Helen and she could tell by Quinn’s expression and the darkening of his eyes that something was wrong.

‘Girls, why don’t you go and wash your hands to get ready to make the burfi?’ she suggested, wanting to get them out of earshot. She stood too and gathered a couple of plates to clear, wanting to give Quinn some privacy.

She returned to the table just as he was finishing the call. Quinn was pacing, his azure eyes dark with worry.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Julieanne has had another seizure. The ambulance is there, they’re taking her to hospital.’

‘Do you need to go?’

Quinn nodded.

‘Do you want me to drive you?’