Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny

Her hair had been dragged back into its band, rather hurriedly by the look of it, with strands wisping out everywhere. It hadn’t been neatly coiffed and primped until every hair was in place.

And Camilla wouldn’t have dared leave the house without make-up. This woman…Nat…was more the girl-next-door version of Camilla. Not the posh English version he’d married.

Even her perfume was different. Camilla had always favoured heavy, spicy perfumes that lingered long after she’d left the room. Nat Davies smelled like a flower garden. And…Plasticine. It was an intriguing mix.

Most importantly, her gaze was free of artifice, free of agenda, and he felt instantly more relaxed around her then he ever had with Camilla.

Alessandro took the proffered hand and gave it a brief shake before extracting his own. ‘Alessandro Lombardi.’

Nat blinked as the fleeting contact did funny things to her pulse. His voice was deep and rich like red wine and dark chocolate, his faint accent adding a glamorous edge to his exotic-sounding name. But the bronzed skin that stretched over the hard planes and angles of his face remained taut and Nat had the impression he wasn’t given to great shows of emotion.

No wonder Julian rarely smiled if he lived with Mr Impassive. Nat looked down at Julian, who was inspecting the floor. ‘Julian, matey, would you like to take Possum Magic home? It’s part of our library. Maybe your papa could read it to you before bed tonight.’

Nat watched as Julian glanced hesitantly at his father, his solemn features heartbreakingly unhopeful.

Alessandro nodded. ‘Si.’

Nat passed the book to Julian, who still looked grave despite his father’s approval. Did he think perhaps his father wouldn’t read him the book? She had to admit that Alessandro Lombardi didn’t look like the cuddle-up-in-bed-with-his-son type. ‘Go and find Trudy, matey. She’ll show you how to fill out the library card.’

They watched Julian walk towards Trudy as if he was walking to his doom, clutching the book like it was his last meal.

Nat’s gaze flicked back to Julian’s father to find him already regarding her, his scrutiny as intense as before. ‘Senor Lombardi, I was—’

‘Mr, please,’ he interrupted. Alessandro was surprised to hear the Italian address. Surprised too at the accuracy of her Italian accent. ‘Or Doctor. Julian knows little Italian. His mother…’ Alessandro paused, surprised how much even mentioning Camilla still packed a kick to his chest. ‘His mother was English. It was her wish that it be his primary language.’

It was Nat’s turn to be surprised. On a couple of counts. Firstly, Julian knew a lot more Italian than his father gave him credit for if today was anything to go by. And, secondly, what kind of mother would deny their child an opportunity to learn a second language—especially their father’s native tongue?

But there was something about the way he’d faltered when he’d talked about his wife, the hesitation, the emptiness that prodded at her soft spot. He was obviously still grieving deeply. And maybe in his grief he was just trying to do the right thing by his dead wife? Trying to keep things going exactly as they had been for Julian’s sake. Or desperately trying to hang onto a way of life that had been totally shattered.

On closer inspection she could see the dark smudges and fine lines around his eyes. He looked tired. Like he hadn’t slept properly in a very long time.

Who was she to pass judgment?

‘Dr Lombardi, I was wondering if Julian had a special toy or a teddy bear? Something familiar from home to help him feel a little less alone in this new environment?’

Alessandro stiffened. A toy. Of course, Camilla would have known that. There was that mangy-looking rabbit that he used to drag around with him everywhere. Somewhere…

‘I’ve been very busy. Our things only arrived a few days ago and there’s been no chance to unpack. We’re still living out of boxes.’

Nat blinked. Too busy to surround your child with things that were familiar to him when so much in his world had been turned upside down?

‘This is none of my business, of course, but I understand you were recently widowed.’

Alessandro saw the softness in her eyes and wanted to yell at her to stop. He didn’t deserve her pity. Instead, he gave a brief, controlled nod. ‘Si.’

If anything, he looked even bleaker than when he’d first entered but despite his grim face and keep-out vibes Nat was overwhelmed by the urge to pull them both close and hug them. Father and son. They’d been through so much and were both so obviously still hurting. She couldn’t bear to see such sadness.

‘I was wondering if Julian had had any kind of counselling.’ Or if the good doctor had, for that matter. ‘He seems quite…withdrawn. I can highly recommend the counselling service they run here through St Auburn’s. The child psychologist is excellent. We could make an appointment—’

‘You’re right,’ Alessandro interrupted for the second time, a nerve jumping at the angle of his jaw. ‘This is none of your business.’ He turned to locate his son. ‘Come, Julian.’

Nat felt as if he had physically slapped her and she recoiled slightly. Alessandro Lombardi had a way with his voice that could freeze a volcano. He was obviously unused to having his authority questioned.

She’d bet her last cent he was a surgeon.

She watched Dr Lombardi usher his son towards the door. Julian partially lifted his hand, reaching for his father’s, then obviously thought better of it, dropping it by his side. He turned and gave her a small wave and a sad smile as he walked out the door, and Nat felt a lump swell in her throat.

They left side by side but emotionally separate. There was no picking his son up and carrying him out, not even a guiding hand on the back. Something, anything that said, even on a subliminal level, I love you, I’m here for you.

Nat hoped for Julian’s sake that it was grief causing this strange disconnectedness between father and son and not something deeper. There was something unbearably sad about a four-year-old with no emotional expectations.

Having grown up with an emotionally distant father Nat knew too well how soul destroying it could be. How often had she’d yearned for his touch, his smile, his praise after he’d left? And how often had he let her down, too busy with his new family, with his boys? Even at thirty-three she was still looking for his love. She couldn’t bear to see it happening to a child in her care.

But something inside her recognised that Alessandro Lombardi was hurting too. Knew that it was harsh to judge him. As a nurse she knew how grief affected people. How it could shut you down, cut you off at the knees. He had obviously loved his wife very deeply and was probably doing the best he could just to function every day.

To put one foot in front of the other.

Maybe he was just emotionally frozen. Not capable of any feelings at the moment. Maybe grief had just sucked them all away.

She sighed. It looked like she’d also developed a soft spot for the father also. Yep, it was official—she was a total sucker for a sob story.

The next day Nat had finished her stint in Outpatients and was heading back to the accident and emergency department for her very late lunch. She’d been sent there to cover for sick leave and was utterly exhausted.

She didn’t mind being sent out of her usual work area and had covered Outpatients on quite a few occasions since starting at St Auburn’s six months ago but it was a full-on morning which always ran over the scheduled one p.m. finish time. There hadn’t been time for morning tea either so her stomach was protesting loudly. She could almost taste the hot meat pie she’d been daydreaming about for the last hour and a half.

Add to that being awake half the night thinking about Julian’s situation, and she was totally wrecked. And then there’d been the other half of the night. Filled with images—very inappropriate images—of Julian’s father and his rather enticing mouth.

She’d known she was going to dream about that mouth.

‘Oh, good, you’re back. I need another experienced hand,’ Imogen Reddy, the nurse in charge, said as Nat wandered back. ‘It’s Looney Tunes here. Code one just arrived in Resus. Seventy-two-year old-male, suspected MI. Can you get in and give the new doc a hand? Delia’s there but she was due off half an hour ago and hasn’t even had time for a break. Can you take over and send her home?’

Nat looked at the bedlam all around her. Just another crazy day at St Auburn’s Accident and Emergency. And they wondered why she kept knocking back a full-time position. Nat’s stomach growled a warning at her but she knew there was no way she could let a seven-months-pregnant colleague do overtime on an empty stomach.

She smiled at her boss. ‘Resus. Sure thing.’

Nat stopped just outside the resus cubicle and pulled a pair of medium gloves out of a dispenser attached to the wall. She snapped them on, took a deep breath, flicked back the curtain and entered the fray.

‘Okay, Delia. You’re off,’ she said, smiling at her colleague who happened to be the first person she saw amidst the chaos. ‘Go home, put your feet up and feed the foetus.’

Delia shoulders sagged and she gave Nat a grateful smile. ‘Are you sure?’ She turned and addressed the doctor. ‘Are you okay if I go, Alessandro? You’re getting a much better deal. Nat here is Super-Nurse.’

Alessandro? Nat swung around to find Alessandro Lombardi, all big and brooding, behind her. The bustle, the sounds of the oxygen and the monitors around her faded out as she stared into those coalpit-black eyes.

They were alert, radiating intelligence, but if anything he looked more tired than he had yesterday. He stared back and Nat felt as if she was naked in front of him.

She dropped her gaze as some of the images from last night’s dream revisited. Bloody hell. He was the new doctor? Working part-time generally kept Nat out of the loop with medical staff rotations and she’d just assumed Imogen had meant a new registrar. Surely Julian’s father was a little too old to be a registrar?

So much for her surgeon theory.