As the other children careened around them, immersed in their own worlds, she opened the book and began to read aloud, her heart warmed by Julian’s instant immersion intoitsworld. Page after page of exquisite illustrations of Australian bush animals swept them both away and by the end of the tale Julian was begging her to read it again, his little hand tucked into hers.
‘I see you’ve made a friend there,’ Sharyn said a few minutes later, plonking a tray of cut-up fruit on the table in front of them and calling for the children to wash up for afternoon tea.
Julian followed the rest of the kids into the bathroom, looking behind him frequently to check Nat was still there.
‘I hope so,’ Nat replied.
If anyone needed a friend, it was Julian.
An hour later the chatter and chaos that was usually the room for kindy aged kids was filled only with the beautiful sounds of silence as the busy bunch of three- to five-year-olds slumbered through the afternoon rest period. Nat wandered down the lines of little canvas beds, checking on her charges, pulling up kicked-off sheets and picking up the odd teddy bear that had been displaced.
She stopped at Julian’s bed and looked down at his dear little face. His soft curls framed his cheeks and forehead. His olive complexion was flawless in the way of children the world over but, unlike every other child in the room, he slept alone, no cuddly toy clutched to his chest.
With the serious lines of his face smoothed in slumber he looked like any other carefree four-year-old. Except he wasn’t.He was a motherless little boy who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
More like forty than four.
He whimpered slightly and his brow puckered. Nat reached out to soothe it but he turned on his side before she could touch down, his thumb finding its way into his mouth. He sucked subconsciously and her heart ached for him. He seemed so alone, even in sleep. It was wrong that a boy who had just lost his mother should have nothing other than a thumb for comfort.
She made a mental note to talk to his father at pick-up. Ask him if Julian would like to bring along a toy, something familiar from home. Maybe she could even broach the subject of counselling for Julian. Something had to be done for the sad little darling. Someone had to try.
It may as well be her.
It was early evening when Nat found herself curled up in a bean bag with Julian in Book Corner, readingPossum Magicfor the third time. The room was once again quiet, most of the children having gone home, their parents’ shifts long since finished. The few remaining kids had eaten their night-time meals and were occupied in quiet play.
Despite her best efforts to engage him with other children, Julian had steadfastly refused to join in, shadowing her instead. Nat knew she should be firmer but in a short space of time she’d developed a real soft spot for the lost little poppet.
His despondent face clawed at her insides and she didn’t have the heart to turn him away. He looked like he was crying out to be loved and Nat knew how that felt. How could she deny a grieving child some affection?
She didn’t notice as she turned the pages that Julian’s thumb had found its way into his mouth or that one little hand had worked its way into her hair, rhythmically stroking the blonde strands. All she was really aware of was Julian’s warm body pressed into her side and his belly laugh as she mimicked Grandma Poss and Hush on their quest to find the magic food.
As ways to end the day went, it wasn’t too bad at all.
Dr Alessandro Lombardi strode into the crèche. He was tired. Dog tired. Emotional upheaval, months of no sleep, moving to the other side of the planet and starting a new job as a senior registrar in St Auburn’s emergency department had really taken their toll. He wanted to go home, get into bed and sleep for a year.
If only.
He pulled up short in the doorway as the sound of his son’s laughter drifted towards him. It had been months since he’d heard it and he’d almost forgotten the thrill of it. After an arduous day it was a surprising pick-me-up.
His dark gaze followed the chortling notes, his eyes widening to take in the picture before him – Julian cuddled up next to a woman with blonde hair and blue eyes exactly like Camilla’s. His son’s fingers absently stroked her hair while he sucked his thumb, just as he used to do with Camilla, and Alessandro’s welcoming smile froze before it had even made a dent into the uncompromising planes of his face.
Crossing the room in quick strides he called to his son. ‘Julian!’
Startled, Julian looked up, his thumb falling from his mouth, his fingers snatched back from the blonde hair as if it had suddenly caught fire.
‘Julian,’ he said quietly, not taking his eyes off the strange woman who was eerily familiar. From the way she folded her pale legs under her to the blonde ponytail that brushed her shoulders and the fringe that flicked back from her face, she was just like Camilla.
His gaze strayed to the way the top two buttons of her V-necked T-shirt gaped slightly across her ample chest, unconsciously appreciating the ripe swell of female flesh. It had been a long time since he’d appreciated a woman’s cleavage and he quickly glanced away, his gaze moving upwards instead, more similarities to Camilla slapping him in the face.
Same wide-set eyes, same high cheekbones, same full mouth and pointed chin complete with sexy little cleft that no doubt dimpled when she smiled.
Hell, hemustbe tired.Orhallucinating, maybe.
Alessandro held out his hand. ‘Come here.’
Julian obeyed immediately, causing the beads in the bag to shift and realign, deflating his companion’s position. She floundered momentarily – something he may have found amusing not that long ago, but he wasn’t in the mood. He hadn’t been in the mood for frivolity for what felt like a million years.
He watched dispassionately as she struggled to her feet, automatically smoothing her hand down her clothes. Extending her hand, she smiled. ‘Hi. I’m Nat Davies.’
