Montana, page 16
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Also by Fiona McArthur
Author Published by Fiona McArthur
Midwife In The Jungle
Midwife On The Orient Express
Montana Lyrebird Lake Book 1
Misty Lyrebird Lake Book 2
Mia Lyrebird Lake Book 3
Emma Lyrebird Lake Book 4
Don’t Panic Guide To Birth
Breech Birth – A Guide for Parents
* * *
Contemporary Fiction
Penguin Random House
Red Sand Sunrise
The Baby Doctor
The Homestead Girls
Heart of The Sky
Mother’s Day
The Desert Midwife
The Bush Telegraph
* * *
Non- Fiction Penguin Random House
Aussie Midwives
* * *
Outback Bride Series 1,2,3-Tule Publishing
Holly's Heart
Lacey
Maeve’s Baby
Medical Romance HM&B
Delivering Love
Midwife Under Fire
Father In Secret
The Midwife's Secret
Emergency In Maternity
Dangerous Assignment
Delivering Secrets
Midwife In Need
A Very Single Midwife
The Pregnant Midwife
The Doctor's Surprise Bride
Their Special Care Baby
The Midwife's Baby
The Midwife’s Little Miracle
The Midwife’s New-Found Family
Pregnant Midwife Father Needed
The Surgeon’s Special Gift
Midwife In A Million
Midwife And The Millionaire
Survival Guide To Dating Your Boss
Harry St Claire; Rogue
Marco's Temptation
Falling For The Sheik She Shouldn't
A Doctor, A Fling And a Wedding Ring
Two Tiny Heartbeats
Christmas With Her Ex
The Prince Who Charmed Her
Midwife's Christmas Proposal
Midwife's Mistletoe Baby
A Month To Marry The Midwife - Lighthouse Bay
Healed By The Midwife's Kiss - Lighthouse Bay
The Midwife's Secret Child - Lighthouse Bay
Second Chance In Barcelona - coming Dec 2020
Misty
Book 2
Excerpt:
CHAPTER ONE
* * *
Behind closed eyes she saw a man in a circle of birds.
Misty Buchanan knew it was the future and not a dream because she’d come to recognise the difference over the years. She hadn’t expected a premonition, not while beach fishing on this deserted coastline because she’d been so caught up in the pleasure of the salty breeze and her mind was at rest.
Her sight shimmered and sparkled and she accepted she had no choice but to watch as she closed her eyes again...
When younger, it had frightened Misty to see people and situations with such clarity while her eyes were shut, but now she accepted it as part of her life, albeit a small part, for only rarely did the future affect her present so vividly.
With this gift came responsibility and her heart thumped with the double-edged sword of what could be revealed and what could be expected of her.
The man balanced on a jumbled spit of rocks beside some seagulls, and even in the haze of the future his torso looked tough and lean against the backdrop of the ocean. He cradled the bird against him gently to unwind the twine. She couldn’t see his face but there was something about his concern for the tangled gull that felt familiar on a different level.
The bird in his hand pulled free and he stepped back out of the way. His foot slipped, he teetered…
Misty frowned as she lost the sight and then the mists cleared again. She drew her breath in sharply as the movie continued. His head smashed against the rocks as he fell and then his body rolled into a green wave to wash without direction away from the rocks.
The vision dissipated and she knew it was useless to attempt to retrieve it.
She’d been shown all she would be.
Misty spun and her fingers clenched on her beach rod and empty bucket as she raced towards her Jeep. Once there she tossed them into the back haphazardly as her gaze scanned the distance for clues.
The Southern Queensland beach stretched for miles both ways and each ended with a rocky outcrop into the ocean. In the distance a flock of gulls soared below a tall white lighthouse that overlooked the water like a guardian.
The visions never came without the opportunity to somehow influence the course of events. She’d have to trust to instinct as she slewed the vehicle with reckless speed through the sand towards the lighthouse.
* * *
Five minutes later Misty’s vehicle slid to a halt and she grabbed the board she kept for body surfing and dragged it behind her. The hot sand squeaked beneath her feet in protest as she tore across the beach. She had to leap to reach the grainy boulders of the outcrop and the rough rocks scratched skin from her soles. That would sting tomorrow.
All she could do was pray this was the correct headland.
She stared, straining to see into the choppy green water between the swells for any sign of a body.
Her stomach plummeted. Nothing.
Was it the wrong headland?
As she turned to race back to the car her final glance caught the roll of a long brown arm and then she saw the rest of his limp body as he slid face down along the back of a wave.
‘Help,’ she muttered unhappily as she looked at the rocks that broke the swells as they drove into the headland.
‘Come on, Misty. Big breath,’ she encouraged herself out loud as she scrambled inelegantly to the water’s edge and dived into the next wave with the board beneath her. Her breath sucked in as the cold water splashed around her and dormant resuscitation drills, reinforced yearly at the hospital and the surf lifesaving club at Coffs Harbour, pounded into her mind as she paddled furiously towards her target.
The occasional swell washed over her face and she spat out salty water as she tried to calculate how long he could have been unconscious.
That first touch when she grasped his arm gave her a rush of relief; his skin was still warm even in the water. She heaved him towards her and flung his arm over the edge of the board, slipping off herself to tread water beside him. By default his head rose from the water as the next wave lifted him half over the board. She sank below the surface to push his other shoulder onto the boogie board. When his weight came off her, she could rest.
‘Hello,’ she shouted. ‘Wake up. Open your eyes.’
No response when she shook his arm. Twice, awkwardly, she blew into his cold lips, but it was hard to keep their lips locked together in the rocking water. Twice he didn’t respond. Another wave washed over them. She needed to get him to shore.
‘Stay with me,’ she urged into his ear as she dragged the board around to face the beach. The desperate urgency of his condition propelled her through the water, legs pumping hard and fast, her breath gasping to fill her own lungs with the effort.
Twice more she blew into his mouth between swells and then a larger swell closed in on them and she angled the board so that they were lifted swiftly towards the beach. Another big swell carried them until a sudden green monster wave swept them forward and tumbled them in an ungainly pile of limbs and board in the shallows. She spat out seawater as she twisted on her side to hang onto him.
The wave that had been powerful enough to throw them onto the sand now seemed intent on pulling them back. He began to slip and she knew she didn’t have the strength to return to the water after him.
‘Come on,’ she gritted out between her teeth, and with a desperate heave she yanked him from the ocean’s tenacious grip. The wave receded and it was then she noticed the tiny rivulets of his blood that went with it.
Misty dragged in welcome air before she rolled him over and pulled him an extra foot away from the reach of the next wave. His eyes were open, blue like his lips, and his white face was as unmoving as his chest as the water drained away from around him.
Cold fear slammed into her. It was too late!
She bent to lay her ear against his battered chest. Thump... Thump... Thump... She could hear it. He had a heartbeat.
It was slow, less than forty beats a minute she estimated, but so much better than no heartbeat at all. So breathing was the problem. She pushed him onto his side and water trickled from his mouth, but still he didn’t move.
She shook him and he rolled onto his back. ‘Hey. Wake up, big guy!’
Misty tilted his head and after a quick glance to check his airway was clear she breathed two quick breaths into his lungs as she watched his chest rise. Yes! Out of the water now she could tell there was chest movement.
She pushed rhythmically on the lower third of his sternum to compress his ribcage and prayed cardiac massage would speed his sluggish heart. Thirty quick depressions, then Misty pinched his nose and blew into his mouth again.
After several desperate cycles he twitched and finally stirred, his chest moved of its own volition, and he gurgled a bubbling stream of sea water as he instinctively rolled onto his side.
A single sob slipped from Misty and she sat back on her heels and drew deep panting breaths of her own as the stranger coughed and wheezed his way to life.
Her shoulders began to shake in earnest as shock seeped through her body and she wrapped her arms around her chest in comfort as she stared down at him.
Hot tears trickled unchecked down her cheeks along with a strangled gasp of mixed euphoria and horror. She sucked another big breath to calm herself and squeezed her arms around her body harder.
Focus.
Don’t fall to pieces yet.
She could hardly believe it. He was alive.
She glanced out at the ocean in incredulity and saw her pretty pink boogie board bobbing merrily in the swells as it drifted out to sea.
She glanced down at the broken strap on her wrist and strained to remember when it had sheared.
Who cared? Someone would enjoy the board when it found land.
* * *
Ben Moore hovered in a beam of light and stared down at his body as it floated in the water. He dreamed in flashes that defined his life. Each flash contained an ocean of memories.
His daughter’s birth.
His wife’s death.
A patient’s family hugging him.
A baby’s first breath.
A mermaid with long auburn hair and green eyes holding out her hand.
He smiled at the irony. He was definitely dying. Something jolted him and he felt himself fall.
The other pictures faded away until only her vivid emerald eyes remained, and they came closer as she kissed him.
Then he was coughing and retching and reality crashed in on him along with the fire in his lungs and the pain in his pounding head.
When the fit settled he took another tearing breath and hoped to avoid the painful mix of seawater and air but it was not to be. When that convulsion died down he eased his shoulders from the gritty sand on which he was lying and ran his hands over his lacerated chest.
The surging waves lapped his feet and above him knelt the mermaid in person — except she had the most beautiful thighs in tattered denim shorts and long gorgeous legs. Definitely not a mermaid then, he thought fuzzily.
He glanced at her fine boned arms and the slender frame that was clearly outlined in the singlet top plastered to her skin. How on earth had she dragged him above the level of the waves?
As if she knew what he was thinking her voice washed over him, warm and reassuring, and the fact that he could hear the sound from her lips meant he really had survived. ‘We rode a wave in and I pulled you the rest of the way,’ she said. ‘You’ve hit your head and torn your skin on the rocks.’
Her long red hair was tied in a limp ponytail that dripped silver rivulets of seawater between her breasts and she flipped it over to her back, which helped the thin singlet plaster itself even closer to her breasts.
He sucked his breath in with disastrous results and when that spasm passed the air in his lungs finally began to feel less like lava and more like the cooler gravel he needed to survive.
‘Thank you.’ His cracked words finally emerged. He inhaled gingerly again. ‘What happened?’ Amazing how much energy those few words took.
‘Don’t talk yet.’ She winced at his obvious discomfort and her hand slid down over his wrist, smooth and cool and very practised as she palpated his pulse. ‘I guess you fell into the water and hit your head. You nearly drowned.’
She was looking at him as if he might not understand but he understood all right. She’d saved his life and put her own very much at risk to do so. He just couldn’t think of anything to say at that moment.
‘I need to get you to a hospital for observation,’ she continued and he closed his eyes as he listened to her talk more to herself than to him. ‘Salt water can cause delayed pulmonary oedema in your lungs.’
He dragged himself into a sitting position but that hurt even more than lying down. Ben rocked his head gently and couldn’t help the groan that escaped as the pain from his skull intensified. It hurt like hell but he didn’t need a hospital. He needed his bed. To be alone.
‘Thank you.’ He paused for breath. ‘Just my shack.’ He paused again. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He watched her roll her eyes and it amused him in a ridiculous, semi-hysterical way. No doubt it was the euphoria of having been snatched from the jaws of death.
‘You need a proper check-up,’ she said. ‘Does your head swim?’
He put his hand up for her to grasp so he could stand. ‘Better than my body does when I’m knocked out, apparently.’
‘I didn’t mean the pun,’ she muttered. ‘A joker. Just what I need.’
Mermaid took his hand and shared his weight as he rose, but still he swayed against her before he could steady himself, and they both knew he was hanging on to his balance by sheer willpower.
The feel of her soft hand left him bizarrely energised and he looked down at her fingers as they curled around his own. He frowned at the strangeness of a connection that shouldn’t even have registered then shrugged the thought away. At this moment she needed all her strength to help him stagger to her vehicle. That was enough to contend with, for both of them.
I hope you have enjoyed this excerpt. Misty will be released on the 30 November 2020
Pre-order Misty e-book here
Pre-order Mia e-book here
Pre-order Emma e-book here
Pre-order print books here - large print also available
https://www.fionamcarthurauthor.com/bookstore
Midwife In The Jungle - buy now
Midwife On The Orient Express - buy now
Midwife On The Orient Express
DEAR READER
* * *
Have you ever wanted to experience the romance and glitz of the world’s most glamorous train journey the Venice Simplin Orient Express?
A few years ago I travelled in style with my writing friend, Alison Roberts, from Venice to London on the famous Wagons Lit. What a magical journey it proved.
We always had the idea that we would write about our experiences and my original book was called Christmas With Her Ex. How much I loved the writing and for a long time I’ve wanted to spend more time with those characters.
As you know, at heart I will always be a midwife, so I’m even more excited at the rebirth of this story years later with the chance to delve deeper into my midwife Kelsie as well as the people she meets on her adventure, to move technology
and details into the present time, and to rechristen the whole fun ride, “MIDWIFE ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS.”
From the canals of Venice to the soaring Italian Dolomites, crossing snow-covered valleys and burrowing through the mountains of the Austrian Alps, with men in tuxedos and women in sequins... It was a journey we will never forget.
You can ride with my heroine, Kelsie Summers, an independent midwife who has always dreamed she’d ride this train one day, and Lucas Larimar, the man she left outside the register office fifteen years ago.
For Lucas, offering his seat to Kelsie in Venice two days before Christmas is tough, but leaving her alone with his meddling grandmother is a hundred times worse.
Lucas can’t believe the surge of emotion as he looks at the woman he crossed a world to get away from and who broke his heart.
Through the night and into the next glamorous thirty- six hours our train blazes a trail across the countryside. Whoosh past the bells and flashes of light of railway crossings while some, but not all, of its occupants sleep in their little beds until dawn outside Paris.
Join me for drama and fun as Kelsie and Lucas rediscover, and then lose each other again, while the train shoots through Europe.
What else can happen to Kelsie after the tunnel to England, the white cliffs of Dover appear, and she passes keeps and stone walls and English backyards until finally she reaches the bustle of London?
Is it a dream that didn’t materialise or is it the magic of Christmas? I wish you a happy journey and a wonderful Christmas! xxFi
* * *
Excerpt
* * *
Lucas
* * *
The seagulls were screaming — or maybe it was Lucas.
Twelve-year-old Lucas Larimar saw the blue-green wave hit the rockpool wall and engulf his mother before tumbling her over and over like a doll – smashed like the broken shell he’d cast earlier into the waves – until her body fell back onto the rocks outside the pool.
