The Midwife's Christmas Miracle, page 1
The Midwife’s Christmas Miracle
Outback Christmas
Fiona McArthur
The Midwife’s Christmas Miracle
Copyright© 2025 Fiona McArthur
EPUB Edition
The Tule Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
First Publication by Tule Publishing 2025
Cover design by Lee Hyat Designs
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ISBN: 978-1-967678-99-0
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Outback Christmas series
More books by Fiona McArthur
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
Gabi
Six metal cattle dogs waved steel paws beside the WELCOME TO WIRRALONG sign, along with the slightly rusty Santa Claus on the hay bale heralding Christmas. The pups looked sleigh-ready and eager to fly off into the sky for the holiday season.
Wide-eyed, Gabi Hudson flicked off the cruise control and slowed the speed of her dusty car to admire the metalwork.
Her lips twitched at the cuteness. Another sign, plastered to a telegraph pole, decreed, Get your Jolly on. The Christmas Fair is coming 17th December. Don’t miss it!
Gabi glanced in the rear-view mirror as she steered past and felt the tension ease from her shoulders. It had been an intense, long drive across the centre of Australia, but she’d seen things she’d have missed if she’d flown from Perth.
The gift of a smile from Wirralong felt like a welcome omen for her new life.
For Gabi—or Gabriella Maria to her darling departed Romanian mother—the first of December seemed excellent timing to escape. Two nights ago, her widowed, used-to-be-normal father had suggested she make a business relationship marriage with a distant relative and hadn’t believed her refusal or seen how ridiculous he was.
A serendipitous phone call for help from an old friend across the continent in Wirralong offered an escape, with employment for at least six months. Gabi had left within forty-eight hours, without leaving a forwarding address.
A tiny house was included in the package, which even backed onto the childcare centre and creche she’d manage. Easy then, to hold the fort while Stevie Lee, or Stevie Grayson as she was now, welcomed her first child—which made everything even more exciting for Gabi.
Hopefully, neither Gabriella’s father nor his sleuthy acquaintances would have heard of Wirralong, the tiny Victorian ex-goldmining town not that far from the Australian Alps, two-thousand miles from Perth.
She squeezed her fingers on the steering wheel and released the tension. At least not until she settled in.
Driving farther into town, her curious gaze snagged on a startling six-foot-tall blue emu at the edge of a park, another quirky metal animal sporting a red-bowed Christmas gift in his pointed beak and a scatter of baby emus at his feet.
Somebody in this town must be a welding freak, she thought with a smile, just as movement near the emu caught her eye and a tall, wide-shouldered man in a cowboy hat stepped into view and straightened the emu’s beak with a pair of pliers.
On a whim, she pulled in under a handy tree and watched, delighted, as the hunky guy stepped back, gestured to the inanimate bird as if having a conversation, and adjusted the beak again.
She noticed a red pick-up truck parked to the side on the park grass. WIRRALONG METAL ART was painted on the rear panel, along with a small American flag. Aha. Another traveller, this one from even farther afield than her.
Gabi couldn’t help admiring the work, when she could lift her gaze from the man, that was. ‘Built indeed,’ she murmured to the car. His well-loved, extra-tall cowboy hat hid his face, but those powerful shoulders were definite eye candy, as was the broad chest that angled down to where the black muscle shirt tucked into his jeans. Long, muscular thighs and strong legs disappeared into well-made cowboy boots. They might have helped him top the six-foot-high emu, but he had enough height without them. Tall, taut and creatively talented. Nice work. She liked Wirralong.
She smiled as he bent, admonishing the huddle of baby emus frozen in flightless frolic at his feet, and laughed out loud in delight. ‘You crazy man.’
She’d missed Christmas childishness since Mamâ had passed away. Mamâ who’d loved all the trimmings of a European Christmas, which meant hot dinners on Christmas Eve despite the Perth heat. Mamâ who had lamented the lack of snow and carollers to serenade with Christmas songs like she’d had in her childhood in Sibiu. That had happened in the last two Christmases, since Dad, her only family, had lost the warmth and wonder he’d always had in his eyes for Mamâ. And for the daughter who now reminded him of his loss.
Gabi lifted her chin. It would be fun to see what a Wirralong Christmas could do. In fact, this town—or at least this man—had made her smile already. Twice. And she couldn’t wait to see what the next six months would bring.
CHAPTER TWO
Cormac
Cormac Callahan—name bestowed by his Irish heritage-Texan grandfather—paused in his work when his neck prickled. He turned slowly until he spotted the darling in the dusty Lexus, watching him style his babies. ‘Well, howdy, ma’am,’ he drawled quietly to his emus, and lifted his hat.
Cormac checked out the car and the lady. Followed the line of her gaze. So, she liked his big bird. He pushed the brim back on his head and dropped his chin to see under the hat more clearly. With the second look he took the time to savour the sight of wispy chocolate hair escaping the ponytail, big eyes, and porcelain-white skin. Oh my. Elegant arms rested across the steering wheel, but it was the smile that captured him. A sunburst of warmth that brought his own grin.
Maybe she was lost? Or just found, he thought, as an unexpected, invisible string pulled him across to her car. The passenger window slid down silently, and he lifted his hat right off as he bent.
She leaned his way, oh my, and he kept his eyes on her face. Her delightful lips parted as she said, ‘I like your baby emus.’ Quiet Christmas music played in the background, but it was her perfect mouth that snagged his attention. The words were soft and yet the hint of something foreign made him wonder if there was another accent along with the Aussie twang he enjoyed so much out here.
He just knew he wanted to hear more. ‘Why, thank you, ma’am.’ He dipped his chin again. ‘What about my big bird? You like him?’
‘He’s amazing.’ Her gaze travelled back to the park and he noted the kink to that marvellous mouth as she admired his work. ‘Has to be a daddy emu,’ she murmured. ‘They’re the ones to raise the chicks after the mother leaves, aren’t they?’
‘That’s right.’ He’d thought that ironic, given his family history.
She grinned at him, her face alight, captivating. ‘I’m a fan of Santa and his dog-deers at the welcome sign, as well.’
His chest warmed. She’d noticed them, too? Cormac laughed. ‘Last year’s project reinstalled.’
He lifted his hand and offered it through the window. ‘Welcome to Wirralong. Y’all are not from around here? That’s a different accent.’
She studied him before answering. As if he’d surprised her. ‘I’m Aussie. But yes, I have a slight accent from my Romanian mother.’ They shook, her fingers cool and elegant against his, and when he couldn’t justify holding on any longer, he reluctantly released her warm fingers and pulled his hand out of the car, but not before he glanced in the back.
Noted the suitcases. Arriving? Or was she just driving through? Strange alarm at her driving away pinched his chest—now that had to be crazy, since he’d just met her—but he felt anxiety prickle just the same. ‘You passin’ or stayin’?’
‘Staying.’ No explanation offered. He didn’t press. Just let out the ridiculous relief. Staying he could work with. Something about her snagged his undivided attention, which was dang inconvenient with his own plans. But her eyes. Her mouth. He stared some more. ‘Well then, ma’am. I’m Cormac Callahan.’
‘Not ma’am. Gabi.’ No last name, but he’d take that for now.
‘Lovely name. Miss Gabi. Gabi short for somethin’?’
She shot him a quizzical look. ‘Gabriella Maria.’
He rolled the name around in his head. Beautiful like her. Sweet as gravy. He loved women—always briefly, since he wasn’t staying—but this focus on her, those eyes with colours shifting even in the scattered light in the car, was unusual. Green, amber and gold, all shades he wanted to study up close. Maybe stare into the depths for a bit. For more than a bit.
Even so briefly acquainted, he could tell she wasn’t a love-em and leave-em kinda woman.
Therefore, not his style. He was leaving not just town but the country in two and a half weeks.
She should have come a year ago. Or maybe he was lucky she hadn’t. He moistened suddenly dry lips. ‘You lost?’ Right this second, he felt a little that way himself, knocked off-kilter and searching for solid ground.
‘Nope. My friend, Stevie Grayson owns The Bridesmaid’s Baby Creche.’
Ah, interesting. Friend of Eli’s wife. Another real lady, like this one. ‘Head on through to the end of this road and turn left into the main street. Left side. Three doors up from the doctor’s surgery you’ll see a driveway for the creche car park.’
She considered him and nodded. ‘My thanks, Mr Cormac Callahan.’ Her peepers sparkling with something he couldn’t pin but would love to explore. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘My absolute pleasure, Miss Gabi …’ Hoping for a last name despite the fact he didn’t need it. Nope. Just told himself she wasn’t for him.
She raised her brows but didn’t offer.
Cormac grinned. ‘Expert at being mysterious. Won’t do you no good. This here’s a small town.’
CHAPTER THREE
Gabi
Gabi raised her hand to match his salute. A player. No doubt. But she couldn’t help admiring the bod, the glint in his baby blues—and his emus. Let alone that delicious Texan drawl. So long since she’d even flirted with a man. Let alone a cowboy! Yeehaw. What was his story?
Gabi cast one last look in the rear-view mirror then, eyes down, determined to pay attention to the glorious flowering crepe myrtles lining the street as she drove towards the town proper. She kept the window down now and could just detect the slightly sweet, slightly spicy scent of the cones of flowers, some cerise and some white, bunched like holiday decorations amongst the branches of striated bark that shone patchily in light and dark. So pretty.
And that emu was out of sight now, anyway.
Once she turned left into the wide main street, enthusiastically decked out in off-duty Christmas lights and thick green ropes of dark leaves and mistletoe, she felt like turning up the music. There were angels and reindeers and stars and baubles. She cruised slowly, thinking that Christmas obviously came to Wirralong in a big way, but it warmed a cold spot in her heart that had been chilly since her mother had faded away.
Yep. She liked this place already. And not just because of the cowboy.
Old-style, two-storey storefronts lined the street on both sides, with shops and cafes on the bottom and residences on top, all festively attired, with the quirky country feel of the ex-goldmining town she’d been told it was.
She passed the Bridesmaid Boutique, the Bridesmaid Coffee House, and more mundanely, the Wirralong Doctor’s Surgery.
A couple of shops up Gabi spotted the sign on her left pointing to the driveway into The Bridesmaid’s Baby Creche parking area.
Apparently Wirralong had a recurring wedding theme as well as Christmas, because she’d never seen so many bridal-inspired shop names. She’d have to ask Stevie about that one.
Gabi took the turn, inched down the narrow space between two buildings, to park in one of the vacant spots. Turned the car off.
Silence greeted her, despite the busy street only yards away, quiet apart from the chittering of a grumpy willie wagtail sitting on the fence and other birds cawing overhead.
Oh yes. Very rural and delightfully unlike the mansion district where she’d lived in Perth. She tilted her head. Listened. Somewhere off in the distance a cow bellowed and a calf answered. Lovely.
She’d arrived. A week of long days driving, but dear Stevie had been right, driving the straight roads of the Nullarbor Plains had been an amazing experience.
She’d followed an older caravanning couple as Stevie had suggested from when her friend had made the crossing, camped with them at night in her car with the seats folded down. It had been quite comfortable, really, and had even felt safe with the doors locked. Like a spy, she laughed at herself, she’d used cash all the way with credit cards tucked away. And her new mobile under an assumed name hadn’t rung once.
All of which made her feel like an adventurer, or a secret agent. Her father would find her eventually—she didn’t expect miracles—but she’d have put down roots by then and she wouldn’t be going back.
Surprisingly, Gabi felt fresh and eased from the pain of loss that had dogged her since her mother’s passing. Mamâ would approve of this adventure. This change. Especially after the shock that her father felt he could just hand her off. She was so over being treated like an asset and more than ready to find her own place in the world.
It would be worth every mile while she found her feet here.
Stop thinking about home.
Through the windscreen she could see a white picket fence where the parking area backed up to a house yard. There it was. Had to be it.
The white moon gate Stevie had raved about, set into a white wooded row of pickets. That would be the love gift Eli, Stevie’s builder husband, had made for her friend.
Gabi sighed. So romantic and a beautiful piece of wood art. Clever. In fact, clever like metal art, really.
She scrunched her face and pushed that insidious ‘Cormac Callahan’ thought away. She was escaping a man, not running towards one.
Thankfully the tiny cottage behind the leafy yard snagged her attention and held. There. Even the photographs hadn’t done it justice. Gingerbread gorgeous and this was her new home. Her cosy Gabi nest. She couldn’t wait to see inside.
She’d stopped last night in Ballarat, wanting to arrive at Stevie’s refreshed before lunch today, so wasn’t tired after today’s drive. Excitement bubbled and she realised it had been a long time since she’d felt this alive. So motivated. So ambitious to make a success of her new life without social constrictions and parental expectation.
Already, Wirralong felt like it would suit her. Nothing to do with the guy back up the road, of course, she just liked the feel. Of the Christmassy town, of this glimpse of her new house, of the idea of walking from her back door to the rear of the creche across the car park on sunny mornings. The sound of the summer cicadas and birds in the trees. Even the cranky willie wagtail still scolding her.
She bit back a smile. Maybe she had liked the feel of Cormac’s big, work-callused hand, too, but that was only a tiny wisp of the good, she decided.
Gabi left her suitcases in the car, scooped up her handbag and by the time she’d locked the vehicle and turned to the creche, Stevie—an enormously pregnant and glowing Stevie—was waiting at the back door for her with the biggest smile on her face.
A bubble of pure happiness warmed her chest, and she crossed the car park fast. They hugged each other with mutual delight, especially with the big ball of baby between them like an unopened present.
Thinking of hugs made her think of Mamâ and Gabi realised she hadn’t been hugged since the funeral. Not since Stevie had hugged her when she’d come to support her.
If it hadn’t been for her darling mamâ, she wouldn’t know about hugs, would never have found her passion for midwifery or life outside that of being the daughter of a very, very wealthy man with barely restrained dictatorship tendencies.
But here was Stevie. Her dearest friend. Providing the place and the companionship exactly when needed. ‘It’s so wonderful to see you.’
They broke apart. Stevie’s face creased in smiles. ‘You are so welcome, Gabi. Wait till you see the creche. And the house. And Eli and our friends.’
