The Family She Needs

His rare soft smile said he totally understood.

‘Thank you.’

She had to push him away right now, this instant, because with every minute he was moving closer and closer to overtaking her heart.

She straightened her back and stomped to the pot drawer. ‘That roast’s calling.’

‘My stomach just sat up in anticipation,’ Logan said on his way past to the laundry with a dirty tea towel. Then he was back, asking, ‘How long’s the roof been leaking in that room?’

The stains on the ceiling were in varying shades of murky brown from the many times rain had come through. ‘Since before I moved in.’

‘I’ll put that on the list of jobs to do.’ He headed to the dining room.

Forget feeling lost—try angry.

‘Put it on the list?’ She snapped her fingers. ‘Just like that. Get the job done; tick it off the blasted list. Call the real estate agent, find a buyer, kick Mickey out of his home. Oh, no, you don’t, Logan Pascale. No, you damn well don’t.’

* * *

‘Smells delicious.’ Logan placed tablemats on the table, found cutlery and set out four glasses. He was beyond tired and knew if he didn’t get some sleep tonight he’d be a basket case tomorrow.

There was no response. Karina seemed too busy stirring the gravy and holding a conversation with herself. What had got her all antsy now?

‘Karina. I want a hug,’ Mickey demanded. ‘I’ve been good.’

She spun around and her face lit up, banishing the unexpected anger blinking out of those big brown eyes. ‘Come here.’ Her lips softened into a smile as she hauled Mickey up into her arms.

Logan ached to wrap his arms around them both and hold them close. To protect them. Instead he stepped around them and headed for the room that was temporarily his bedroom to dump his wallet and phone. Their voices and laughter followed him down the hall.

Karina. He’d seen her pain in her tight body, heard it in her tear-filled voice, known it in the desolation echoing through her words. A broken marriage and the loss of Maria would have taken a toll. Throw in the added responsibility for a young boy who wasn’t hers and no wonder she had her moments of feeling down. She came across as strong, but occasionally he glimpsed turmoil in her gaze. Was he adding to that by being here? By wanting to improve her situation in his own way?

Logan’s hands curled into fists. He cursed the militants who’d kept him from returning in time for the joint funeral. He could have helped Karina—stood by her as she hurt.

He felt sweat beading his brow as once again he ran through the day he’d been kidnapped, searching for anything he could have done so that he might have made it back to New Zealand in time. Again there was no lightbulb moment to show how he could have done anything differently. Face it: with an Uzi jabbed into his back there really hadn’t been any other way of reacting except to move in whatever direction he was ordered.

Which only made him more incapable than he’d believed he was. Unable to save himself or either of his colleagues who had also been dragged away to be dumped in huts in the most hostile place he’d ever had the misfortune to be.

‘Uncle Logan, here’s my storybook.’

Logan blinked, shook his head to block those hideous memories from becoming a full-blown storm in his brain, and dropped to his haunches to eyeball Mickey. ‘What did you call me?’

‘Uncle Logan. That’s who you are.’ The boy nodded seriously. ‘My daddy’s brother.’

‘Yes, Mickey, I’m your uncle. How cool’s that?’ He held his hand up to high-five him. Mickey slapped him in return and warmth stole into Logan’s heart for this tough little guy. ‘It’s cool being uncle and nephew.’

‘Do it again.’

‘What are we agreeing on this time?’

Mickey’s small hand barely covered his palm. ‘Everything.’

‘I see there’s some serious male bonding going on here.’ Karina stood in the doorway. ‘I hate to break up the fun, but Mickey, you need to wash your hands for dinner.’

‘Come on, Uncle Logan. Wash your hands or Karina won’t let you eat.’

‘Does he get the bossy thing from you, by any chance?’ Logan asked as he stood up.

She gave a wary smile. ‘Of course.’

‘Actually, I think he’s got James’s genes there.’ He casually dropped an arm over her shoulders, half expecting her to pull away.

Which she did. Tugging free to move into the hallway, her face tightening.

‘Karina? What’s wrong?’

She was definitely going a bit remote on him.

‘Not a thing. Truly,’ she added when he locked eyes with her. ‘I’m wondering how David’s getting on and if he’ll be at work tomorrow.’

He knew that was quick improvising, but if she wanted the subject changed he’d play the game. ‘Why not leave him be? I’ll cover for him until he’s back on his feet.’

‘You realise he’ll be getting his hopes up that you might decide to stay on and take his place permanently?’

‘When you tell David I’ll cover for him again, you can throw in a bit about me heading back to my other job as soon as I’m fit enough.’

Damn, damn, damn. His mouth had got away on him.

‘You’re not fit?’

Of course she’d instantly pick up on his blunder. ‘“Worn out” is the non-technical term.’

Would he get away with that?

Her eyes filled with disappointment. ‘Sure...’ She shrugged. ‘I guess it must be exhausting, working in extreme heat and without the usual backup that modern hospitals provide.’

He saw behind her attempt to get him to speak about his life in Africa. She wanted to know why he was unfit, why he had nightmares, why he wasn’t rushing back to his job for the next few weeks.

‘At least I get down time. Unlike you. You go from one job to the next, never taking time out for yourself.’

‘Mickey isn’t a job,’ she snapped, the disappointment shadowing her eyes quickly replaced with annoyance. ‘I’m a normal person, going to work at the medical centre and coming home to look after my boy and do the usual household chores.’

‘You’ve made a haven here, but how long do you think you can go on living like this? Pretending it’s normal? Because it’s not, whichever way you look at it. You’ve had someone else’s child thrust on you. You’ve got a medical surgery to keep running and you’re not a doctor. And we won’t even mention this house.’

Triple damn again. Talk about motor-mouth. Exhaustion did that to him time and again.

Karina snapped, ‘You’re a fine one to talk. Why do you spend your life in the remotest of locations? Out of touch with your f

amily?’

She leaned back against the wall and folded her arms, pushing those tantalising breasts up and out. Breasts that were rising and falling rapidly as her breathing tempo ramped up. Breasts that pushed at the front of her white blouse and drew his gaze, making him temporarily forget what they were arguing about.

Her foot tapped the carpet. Logan shivered. For a guy who preferred his own company and didn’t do heart-to-heart conversations, this strange sense of loss just because Karina had gone quiet on him as she waited for an explanation he couldn’t give came out of left field.

She could have rubbed his nose in the fact that half the responsibilities around here were actually his. But she hadn’t.

Lifting his eyes, he met her steady gaze. ‘I left New Zealand because I didn’t feel connected to anything or anyone.’

No, that wasn’t one hundred per cent correct, and somehow he knew Karina would see through any attempts to gloss over things in his usual careless way. Unbelievable, but he found he didn’t want to lose credibility with her.

‘My family were all busy doing their own thing. I decided to go to London for post-grad work. That’s where I heard about the African Health Organisation and immediately applied to work for them. Something clicked. I wanted to help people who were desperate. I’ve never gone without life’s basics, and a part of me has always been about making sure others have the same advantages.’

Her stance softened a fraction. Those arms dropped to her sides and she straightened up again. ‘You didn’t think you’d be able to help people in your own country?’

‘Of course I did. But on the African continent illness and need is on such a huge scale. There’s no welfare system for the poor and desperate.’

He pushed away from the bench he’d been leaning against.

‘Shouldn’t we be feeding Mickey and Jonty?’

‘As opposed to telling each other a little about ourselves? Yes, you’re probably right. But, Logan, I think you’re wrong. There are many people in this country who could do with your skills.’

Logan didn’t want to argue with her. ‘I’ll tell the others dinner’s ready.’

He needed to get away from her for a moment—to break that thread of contact that had him telling her things he’d never talked about, not even to the shrink.