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A pregnant pause!

Jake Sheppard made no secret of his disapproval of midwife Poppy McCrae’s use of complementary therapies. Poppy was furious – and accused the handsome paediatrician of being a stubborn stuffed shirt.

Professional disagreement didn’t stand in the way of an emerging passion – and soon Poppy became pregnant. At first she couldn’t contemplate marriage to a man so averse to her principles. But pregnancy seemed to galvanise her priorities, and when Poppy discovered the reason behind Jake’s mistrust of her methods she found herself hoping it wasn’t too late to change her mind.

Reviews

If you haven’t already read it, check out Fiona’s first medical, Delivering Love - published earlier this year. Both characters had diametrically opposed views to midwifery and obstetrics, but somehow it all comes out in the end. I just finished it and what a great read! Just lovely Fiona, great dialogue, wonderful characters (love the MIL!), humour, drama, passion and tears. It’s all there. Even if you don’t read Medicals - get your hands on this little number. It’s a keeper. TM

Yes, I’ve read Fiona’s book and it was so lovely I not only wish I’d written it, I wish Poppy had been the midwife at my deliveries. Good writers make it look so easy - sigh. (The book, not deliveries.)
AW

Excerpt

It was Jake. She tilted her head. How had he known where she lived?

His face was set in uncompromising lines and his greeting was abrupt, as if he had a lot on his mind. ‘May I come in?’

By the look on his face she didn’t know whether it was a good idea or not. But, then, who was she kidding? She couldn’t have made herself turn him away. ‘I suppose so, Jake. Come through.’ She gestured with her hand as she fought down the agitation his presence created in her stomach.

She had to admit that a lot of the time he just plain overwhelmed her. Hopefully her expression was as calm as she wanted to look. She’d only met him a few times but each time he seemed to be a different person. Maybe he had twelve personalities. Like Sibyl, that woman in the movie. She bit her lip to stop a smile.

He hesitated at the door so she went first but he didn’t follow her. She turned back to see him what he was doing. What was he doing? She didn’t need this.

‘I didn’t invite you, Jake. If you don’t want to come in, why are you here?’

Poppy stood with her hands on her hips and waited for his eyes to meet hers. She watched him run his hands through his hair, a gesture that made him seem vulnerable.

Something was bothering him seriously, and she softened towards him again.

He said, ‘I asked Sandy where you lived.’

When he finally moved into the house, she found it intriguing the way his head turned to note the abundant plant life, the colourful mobiles and wind chimes, and the obviously Indian influence so popular in the sixties, that dominated her house. He compressed his lips and nodded his head. ‘I should have known.’

‘Should have known what, Jake?’ Poppy tapped her foot, which wasn’t like her.

‘You’re one of these “alternative people” aren’t you, Poppy?’

She squared her shoulders and stared up at him as she weighed up the best way to present her argument. He topped her height by a good six inches and she had the feeling every inch might count.

‘What’s your definition of “alternative” Jake?’ She held his eyes. ‘Are we talking Greenie? Hippie?’ Her hands were back on her hips. ‘Maybe dangerous radical?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Or just someone who believes in something you don’t understand?’

He blinked at her tone. Tough, she thought. If he wants a lecture he’s come to the right place. Poppy read the surprise on his face and felt the familiar zeal to share her passion for complementary therapies.

‘Come on, Jake. I saw your face in the birthing unit - your reactions to the piece of quartz soaking up the negative vibes, the twitch of your nose and curl of your lip at the scent of aromatherapy and the bath.’ She spun on her heel and walked a couple of paces away, before turning back to face him. ‘I believe in holistic midwifery - which is the use of all techniques that can help the clients. What’s your problem with that?’

They glared at each other and she watched his eyes narrow.

‘Hocus-pocus, Poppy. Natural doesn’t automatically mean safe. There is no scientific proof that these methods work. No controlled studies done. I have a problem with people leaning on other “techniques” as you call them - and I think they’re dangerous. When something goes wrong it’s my conventional medicine,’ he tapped his chest with a finger, ‘…that’s going to save them - if they can be saved and are not too messed up by quacks trying to create miracles with a piece of rock.’ He snorted. ‘The lights were so dim how could you see the baby was a good colour? What was the baby’s temperature when you’d finished dipping it in and out of the bloody Leboyer bath?’

By the time he finished his tirade his voice had risen. She blinked then stared at him hard. This man was hurting. Goosebumps lifted the hairs on her arms. The feeling that something wasn’t right assumed enormous proportions.

She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not deaf, Jake. On the surface, your arguments are old school and nothing I can’t demolish.’ Once her husband had left, it had taken her two years to knock the snickers out of medical and nursing staff at her ‘holistic’ deliveries.

‘But there’s something deeper and more personal in this explosion of emotion. What experiences have you had with alternative therapies, Jake?’ She gentled her voice.

She didn’t want to cause him pain. Wasn’t even sure of the reaction she might get, let alone the fallout - but it was too late.

‘I’ll tell you!’ The three words were made more chilling by the softness in his voice.