Found: A Father For Her Child Part 5

Carrie smiled. 'Don't let it go to your head.'

Too late. He'd spent the last five nights with her and her d.a.m.n pinstriped suits in his head. He cleared his throat. 'You handle the paperwork, I'll give the injections,' Charlie said as he checked the vaccine fridge in the treatment room. 'Angela has all the cards out for those she's expecting. They'll be in alphabetical order. Any drop-ins should have their baby books and we can access their information through the pract.i.tioner portal at the national immunisation database website. Angela already has it up on the screen.'

He brushed past her, ignoring the brief press of flesh, and strode to the desk, demonstrating quickly how to access the information she'd need and how to update each patient's records.

'Weigh the babies if that hasn't been done in the last month.' He pointed to the scales.

'Right,' she said stiffly, still processing the sigh of her cells as her body reeled from the fleeting contact of his body against hers. Weigh the babies. See, easy. I can do this. It was hardly practising medicine.

Charlie stopped and gave her a searching look. 'Are you sure?'

She scrambled to get her head together. She put her hand on her hip and lifted her chin. 'I have two degrees. I think I can manage some data entry and a set of scales.'

Her stance emphasised the dip of her waist and the curve of her hip and her haughty put-down tone had the completely opposite effect. He was anything but put down. 'Right, then, let's get started before the mob starts to revolt.'

Three hours later they had finally broken the back of the queue. Three agonising hours of watching Charlie cluck, cuddle, soothe and generally work magic with every baby, toddler and child in the room. And their mothers. He'd even managed to engage the odd bored, rather-be-shooting-hoops dad who had been dragged along, as well.

He was a natural with kids. They responded to him with that typical childlike exuberance. He pulled faces and put on funny voices and teased and joked with the older children. He wiped away their tears and gave out 'I've Been Beary Brave Today' teddy-bear-shaped stickers and the kids' eyes lit up like he'd just given them diamonds.

She remembered him saying that his wife hadn't wanted children. She also remembered getting the distinct impression that he wasn't keen on them, either. Which was a shame-he really had a way with little people. He'd certainly won Dana's heart with his Sleeping Beauty comment. She hadn't stopped talking about him since.

Her mind drifted to her daughter. And then, as usual, to Dana's father. Why couldn't Rupert have been more like Charlie? The horrible night she had told him about being pregnant, the night he had broken her heart, was never far from her mind. It had been a particularly awful time, coming hot on the heels of her disintegrating medical career. She had loved him and he had rejected her and his baby during the worst time of her life, and with such vehemence, such disdain, part of her had never recovered.

He had become engaged shortly after that and had moved overseas to practise in London. But his betrayal had stayed close to her heart. As long as she lived, she never wanted to be in a position where someone could destroy her again. Love gave other human beings extraordinary power over you and she was never handing that power over again.

She shut the website down with a vehement click, annoyed that she had let her thoughts drift, and surveyed the now empty waiting room. Her feet ached from constant getting up and down and walking back and forth. Her fas.h.i.+onable three-inch stilettos weren't meant for movement. Sitting at a desk, yes, going back and forth, no.

She got off Angela's chair and flopped down on one of the squishy lounges, kicking her shoes off temporarily and wriggling her toes. She had to get back to the laptop, she was three hours behind, but for a brief moment she let her head flop back and sighed. It felt heavenly.

Charlie stood framed in the doorway, watching her. The clinic had gone well. OK, Carrie hadn't been as fast at things as Angela, but for a novice she'd excelled, and she'd had amazingly good rapport with the clients. Maybe that was a mother thing, an area she could relate to, but he didn't think so. She had great people skills. It seemed such a shame that she was wasting them in management.

He watched her hand creep up and rub absently at her neck. He was. .h.i.t by an overwhelming urge to give her a shoulder rub. She looked done in. He remembered her stretching earlier. She was, no doubt, used to ergonomically designed chairs and having to contend with a hard plastic seat was probably playing havoc with her spine alignment. She probably had kinks in her kinks.

But even as he thought it he knew how dangerous touching her would be. He'd thought about little else since he'd met her. To have to go home each night and add in the reality of her touch to his dreams would give him a permanent case of insomnia. She'd probably sue him for hara.s.sment anyway. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went back to putting the treatment room back to rights.

Carrie heard the door open and almost groaned. A late-comer? She opened her eyes to find a girl, a young woman actually, standing there, looking miserable. She had multicoloured short spiky hair, several facial piercings and sad, sad eyes ringed by thick black eyeliner. She looked about seventeen.

Carrie sat up. 'Are you OK?'

The girl nodded.

'Do you want to see Ch-Dr Wentworth?'

The girl shook her head.

Carrie recognised the look in her eyes. She'd seen it in her mirror often enough. 'You just want to sit for a bit?' Carrie asked, patting the lounge beside her.

The girl eyed the s.p.a.ce, strode across the room and flung herself down next to Carrie. 'Men are such pigs,' she said vehemently.

Carrie looked for a response that would encourage the girl to unburden but she'd never been very good at the psychology side of things. And with thoughts of Rupert never far away, what else could she do other than agree?

'This is true.'

The girl looked at her, startled, and then turned back to stare straight ahead. 'They suck.'

True again. 'They do.'

Charlie's ears p.r.i.c.ked up at the conversation and he strained to hear more.

'How could they be so...so...duplicitous?'

It was Carrie's turn to be startled this time. She'd mistakenly judged this girl on her appearance. She obviously had an excellent vocabulary. 'It's a Y chromosome thing. I think they go to duplicitous studies while we're at common sense 101,' Carrie sighed.

Charlie wanted to protest on behalf of his s.e.x as he edged closer to the open door.

'More like gullible 101,' the young woman grumbled.

Carrie laughed. 'Perhaps you're right.'

'So what do we do about it?' the girl complained, turning beseeching eyes on Carrie.

Well, now, wasn't that the million-dollar question? Carrie shrugged. 'Believe in yourself. Believe that you're worth more than that. That there's someone out there who will treat you with the respect you deserve, and don't settle for less.'

The girl sagged against the chair. 'Oh.'

'Sorry, probably not what you wanted to hear. If you've got another suggestion, I'd be happy to hear it.'

'I was thinking of making a voodoo doll.'

Carrie laughed. The idea of sticking pins into an effigy of Rupert was inordinately funny. The girl laughed with her.

Charlie winced and made a note to never cross either of them.

'Nah, I suppose you're right,' the girl conceded after a while. 'How long did it take you to figure it out?'

Carrie laughed but there was a harsh edge to it. 'Too long.'

The girl sighed. 'Think I'll become a lesbian.'

'I don't think you get a choice. I think you either are or you aren't.'

She sighed again. 'We'd be better off without them.'

Very mature. But then she thought of Dana's quick girly giggle. And Charlie's slow lazy smile. 'It wouldn't be as fun, though, would it?'

Carrie chatted to the girl for a while longer then excused herself. She was so behind. She'd hoped to get through December's financial statistics today but helping with the clinic had thrown that out the window. She was just going to have to stay on. Dana was having a sleepover at her sister's house tonight with her cousins so there was no need to rush home.

She walked past Charlie's office. He had the door closed and she a.s.sumed, hoped, that he was attending to the immunisation clinic's billing paperwork. The thought of going back to her own stack of papers was exceedingly unappealing. She sat at the table, staring at her laptop, and felt suddenly restless.

She gave herself a shake. She didn't have time for restless. The board would not be impressed if the report was late. It could ruin her otherwise unblemished record. She'd already messed up one career. She wasn't going to blow this one. She donned her gla.s.ses-they never failed to put her in the right frame of mind.

Charlie opened the door a few minutes later. Carrie looked at him over the top of her rims. Her jacket was off again and he almost turned around and went back to his office to stare at the walls some more.

'It's past five. Shouldn't you be heading off?' He flicked the kettle on.

She shook her head. 'Helping you put me behind so I'm working on tonight. That's OK, isn't it?'

'Sure. I never usually leave till nine-thirty or ten. What about Dana?'

Carrie refused to allow the little thrill of pleasure coursing through her any rein. So, he was thoughtful-that wasn't entirely alien to the male species. 'Sleeping over at her cousin's house tonight.'

'Coffee?'

She shook her head. Heavens, no, she already felt too keyed up.

'You work long hours,' Carrie said. 'I don't see you claiming them on any of your timesheets.'

'I'd love for the centre to be open twenty-four seven but with just me, that's not possible. So I do what I can to open extended hours.' He shrugged. 'It's not like I have anything better to do.'

She watched him pour his drink and stir in two sugars. He sounded like he lived for his work, too. And then she realised she was staring and returned her attention to the screen.

'Sorry I put you behind,' he said, leaning against the sink and taking a sip of his scalding hot double-strength brew.

Carrie stopped tapping on the keys again and smiled, thinking back at her afternoon. 'It's OK. I enjoyed it, actually.'

Charlie nodded. He could tell. 'Maybe that's because you're good at it. People respond to you.'

'Nonsense,' she said, going back to her work. She couldn't afford to let his praise go to her head. She was in management now. That's where her future lay. 'I hardly had any contact at all. Spent most of my time on that d.a.m.n computer.'

He pushed away from the sink and strolled towards her. 'Rubbish. They're a tough crowd, Carrie. Trust me, they liked you. Just look at Tina earlier. She's one seriously mixed-up, closed-off kid. You had her eating out of your hand.'

'Tina? Was that her name? She's a smart girl, that one, she'll figure it out.'

He nodded. 'Thanks in part to you.'

Their eyes met. He could see the wariness in her gaze. The denial. And then the phone rang.

Carrie broke eye contact and stared dumbly at the object hanging on the wall. The d.a.m.n thing rang all day, constantly interrupting her concentration. She was learning to tune it out.

'That'll be for you,' she said, and watched as he ambled over with his long-legged stride.

'h.e.l.lo, Valley Drop-In Centre, this is Charlie.'

'Is there something wrong with using your full medical t.i.tle? Really, Charles, the Wentworth name is something most doctors in Brisbane would kill to have.'

Charlie gripped the receiver tighter. 'Father.'

Carrie looked up from the keyboard. Charlie's dad? He looked and sounded about as pleased to hear from him as he had the day she'd walked in. She didn't know anyone who used such a formal t.i.tle in everyday conversation.

'Have you looked at that application I emailed you? With my recommendation you'd get the position easily.'

'I'm not having this conversation again. I have a job. I'm not interested in a surgical position.'

Charlie's voice was terse and Carrie looked back at the screen, pretending she couldn't hear every word he was saying.

'Charles! Every Wentworth since-'

'Since federation has risen to the level of consultant in his or her chosen specialty,' Charlie ended, used to the spiel by now.

'You think this is amusing, Charles?'

Good lord, no. His father was about as funny as a wet week. But, on the other hand, it was getting kind of ridiculous. 'Mildly.'

'I'm thinking of what's best for you Charles.'

'Nonsense. You're thinking of the family reputation. h.e.l.l, Dad, the Wentworths aren't the Mafia.' Although it was beginning to feel like it. 'Give it up.'

The Wentworths? The Wentworth family? Charlie was one of Brisbane's first family? Medical royalty? What the h.e.l.l was he doing here, in a lowly drop-in clinic?

'We'll speak more about this at lunch on Sunday.'

'Oh, goody,' he said derisively.

'Your mother is expecting you, Charles. Goodbye.'

Charlie hung up on his father's reproachful tone. He glanced at Carrie tapping away at her keyboard, looking for all the world like she wasn't actually there. He chuckled. 'It's OK, Carrie, it was kind of hard not to hear.'

Carrie gave up the pretence. 'You're one of the Wentworths?'

'Afraid so.'

Good. It was good that she'd found this out now. Charlie Wentworth was way out of her league. Had she been interested. Which she wasn't. 'So that makes you...'

Charlie nodded. 'The black sheep.'

She gave him a quelling look. 'Ignatius Wentworth's son? Sir Nelson Wentworth's grandson?'

'Guilty.'

The smile he shot her was slow and lazy and her toes curled. Stop it! Charlie's family had an entire national research facility named after them, for crying out loud. And she was most definitely a girl from the wrong side of the tracks. 'How the h.e.l.l did you wind up here? Did you kill someone?'

Charlie was momentarily shocked at her bluntness. And he laughed as she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her quick horrified gasp at her unprofessional comment.

'I'm sorry...that didn't quite come out the way I'd planned. Forgive me.'

Charlie sobered. 'It's OK, and, no, I didn't kill someone. I'm here through choice.'

'Choice? Wentworths don't choose grungy drop-in centres.'