‘What do you mean?’
‘I assume Janet can give me directions on how to get your cows in, and I vaguely remember milking the house cow as a boy. It’s like riding a bicycle, isn’t it? Once learned, never forgotten.’
Ryan wasn’t a long way away at all. His hand came down and touched Abbey’s cheek, wiping tears from her long lashes. There was resignation in his voice, but also tenderness. ‘Abbey, go to sleep. I’ll go and milk your damned cows for you. And then… after that we’ll sit down and try to make some sense out of this mess!’
‘You don’t… You can’t…’ Abbey twisted around on the bed but Ryan’s hands held her firm.
‘Abbey, shut up and go to sleep,’ he said kindly. ‘I’m the senior doctor here-remember? What I say goes. Now just cut out the protests and go to sleep.’
It was all Abbey wanted to do. It was all her body was screaming at her to do.
She looked up into Ryan’s concerned face and for the life of her she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Or do. The morphine was blurring her edges. Muting her protests. She blinked and tried, but all that would come out was what she most wanted to say.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
And the morphine took its toll. She slept.
Abbey woke to laughter.
She stirred and winced and checked herself out from the toes up.
Her leg was hurting. So was her face. Nothing too drastic, though. The dressing Ryan had put on her face was stretched-the swelling must have pulled the cover tight. She winced and adjusted it, loosening it and reapplying the sticky edges. Then she tried moving her leg.
It didn’t hurt as much as she’d expected. The huge dressing was holding everything firm.
She was covered by a thick quilt. It hadn’t been there when she’d gone to sleep. Janet must have come in…
Or Ryan had put it over her.
Abbey found herself flushing at the thought of Ryan, being beside her when she was asleep. No. It had to be Janet.
Ryan Henry…
He’d slammed back into her life with the force of a bulldozer and it wasn’t the knock on her head this afternoon that was making her dizzy. Ryan…
‘Don’t be stupid, Abbey Wittner,’ she told herself harshly. ‘Just because the man’s good-looking and smiles just the way he used to… It doesn’t mean he’s the same. It doesn’t mean you still have to be in love with him… ’
There were giggles coming from the kitchen. Abbey listened for a whole two minutes and then could bear it no longer. She grabbed the hospital crutches from the bedside and staggered forth, her first venture on four legs.
Ryan Henry was seated at Abbey’s kitchen table and he was feeding her son.
Abbey stopped at the kitchen door and blinked, and blinked again. Janet was smiling with pleasure while Ryan aeroplaned Jack’s egg into his mouth. It was hard to know who was having the most fun-Jack, Jack’s grandma, Janet or the man with the egg aeroplanes.
‘Jack doesn’t like egg,’ Abbey said slowly, and Ryan and Janet turned towards her. Not Jack. Her little son didn’t look up. The toddler was concentrating fiercely on catching and eating the next aeroplane.
Jack doesn’t like egg?
‘More,’ said Jack.
‘Says who?’ Ryan asked politely. He gave Abbey a mocking smile and went back to his aeronautics. Jack demolished the last mouthful of egg and crowed with delight.
‘Ryan does a finer aeroplane than you or I ever did.’ Janet’s smile deepened as she stood and shifted awkwardly to the stove. ‘Sit down, child, and I’ll give you your dinner. I kept it hot.’
Abbey frowned and looked at the clock above the big old fire stove. And winced.
Seven o’clock!
‘We let you sleep,’ Janet explained. ‘We thought it was best.’
‘I see.’ Abbey didn’t see at all. She looked at Ryan with suspicion. ‘Did Janet feed you, then?’
‘There’s no need to say it like it’s taking food from your mouths,’ Ryan complained. ‘Janet said there was heaps.’
‘And so there is,’ Janet said warmly. ‘Ryan’s milked all the cows and it’s only taken him two and a half hours to do it.’
‘Two and a half…’ Abbey’s eyes widened and twinkled. ‘Did the girls give you a hard time, Ryan?’
‘They learned who was boss,’ Ryan said evenly. ‘Eventually.’
‘He might need a loan of your crutches or my walking stick,’ Janet interjected. ‘He got himself kicked.’
Abbey lifted her brows in sympathetic enquiry. ‘Really? Badly, Ryan? Let me see.’
‘No way,’ Ryan said darkly. ‘And don’t ask where. Enough to say it’s a place where the sun rarely shines. It’s not crutches I need but a gynaecological pillow.’
A gynaecological pillow was a pillow shaped like an inner tyre to take the pressure from sore bottoms after childbirth. Abbey grinned in swift sympathy.
‘Oh, dear.’
‘He was bending over to tie one girl’s legs and he forgot the girl in the next bail wasn’t tied,’ Janet explained. She looked over at Abbey and her eyes twinkled. She chuckled out loud and Abbey’s eyes widened even further. It had been a long time since she’d heard Janet chuckle.
Janet placed a plate of casserole on the table. Abbey lowered herself thoughtfully into the chair and surveyed her family.
It all seemed so… so domestic. To have Ryan sitting in the chair at the other end of the table, calmly wiping superfluous egg from her son’s little face. The kitchen had been empty… well, it had
And what about Abbey herself?
She had loved this man once, she conceded. Or maybe that was wrong. She’d loved this
Home?
No. This wasn’t Ryan’s home. This was his honeymoon destination. Abbey gave herself a fast mental shake. It was no use growing accustomed to Ryan being at her kitchen table. In two weeks he’d be gone.
Once, many years ago, she’d broken her heart over his leaving. Not any more. Now she didn’t even know him.
‘Your leg’s hurting,’ Ryan said softly, and Abbey flushed as she realised he’d been watching her.
‘N-no.’ she lied. ‘Well, maybe just a bit.’
‘Do you want more morphine?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll take aspirin if I need to.’
‘Aspirin’s not strong enough, Abbey.’ Once again, that cool voice which held a hint of concern-a voice that was close to Abbey’s undoing. The same voice she remembered from all those years ago. ‘It’s no weakness to admit you’re in pain. And there’ll be scratches and bruises under that filthy T-shirt. Would you like me to help you bath?’
‘No way!’ She blinked, determined. ‘And I’ll stick to aspirin, thanks very much. Morphine will just make me go to sleep.’
‘That’s just what you need to do, girl,’ Janet said strongly, and Abbey shook her head.
‘No. I have to bath Jack and put him-’
‘In case you haven’t noticed, Jack’s in his pyjamas,’ Janet told her. ‘Ryan and I have already bathed Jack.’
Abbey blinked. ‘You!’ Her eyes swivelled to Ryan.
‘There’s no need to sound as if you think I’m completely useless,’ Ryan complained. ‘I can cope with the odd baby bath.’
‘Yeah?’ Abbey gave him a sideways look. ‘How many babies have you bathed in your time, Ryan Henry?’
‘One,’ he said promptly. ‘But it was a brilliant one, wasn’t it, Jack?’ He grinned down at Abbey’s little son and
