She turned, her red summer dress sweeping around her, and flounced out of the kitchen, coffee and biscuits abandoned.
Logan shook his head. He hadn’t even realised he was being short with everyone. Oh, he knew he was using definite avoidance tactics when it came to Gemma. But he hadn’t been aware of the impact on everyone else.
He cringed. How embarrassing. There had already been a few whispers, a few knowing stares around him and Gemma. He might as well have put a sign above their heads. People must surely be wondering what had happened between them now. And it was clear it wasn’t good.
This was unprofessional. For them and for their patients. And this was his fault.
What he needed to do was sit down and have a reasoned, rational conversation with her.
But it was difficult to concentrate around her. She didn’t seem to realise the effect she had on him. It was almost magnetic. And when she was at her most angry, most emotional, she was even more gorgeous than usual and he just couldn’t think straight.
It was time to get himself in order. It was time to think about what he was doing.
Not being around Gemma was killing him. Not being able to touch her was keeping him awake at night.
He was going to have to come to terms with what she’d done, and fast.
Otherwise he might as well just set sail off the coast and never come back.
* * *
‘Are you in a better mood, or are you still grumpy?’
‘What?’ Logan was startled by the little voice. But then again, why should he be? Isla seemed to be a permanent fixture at his mother’s kitchen table. She was beginning to feel like part of the family. And, to be honest, it didn’t give him the usual run, run as fast as you can thoughts.
He glanced around and caught sight of his mother in the back garden, hanging out a load of washing. Isla pushed the seat out from the table. ‘Do you want to see my new school uniform, Logan? My mum picked it all out for me. Granny Scott says she’s going to take the hem up on my pinafore.’
Isla jumped down from the seat and stood in front of him, twirling around as only a little girl in new clothes could. She looked adorable. It was almost as if the bright green of the school uniform had been made entirely to suit her colouring.
Her curly red hair was tied neatly back with some matching green ribbons. She had on a grey pinafore and bright green school jumper, with a white polo shirt collar showing around the neckline of the jumper, along with highly polished—clearly never worn—school shoes. She pointed to the door handle, where there was a hanger with a green and white school summer dress.
‘My mum got me one of those too, in case it’s too hot when I start.’ She twirled around again. ‘But I like my jumper.’ She jumped back up on the chair, standing precariously on tiptoe and looking at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. ‘I think I look much older in my school uniform. What do you think?’
Logan couldn’t help the smile on his face. There was no getting away from it, Miss Five-Going-On-Eighty-Five was just adorable. ‘I think I would like you to stay five for as long as possible, Isla Halliday.’ He picked her off the chair and put her back on the floor.
‘But why? I want to be a big girl.’ She settled back down at the table. ‘And when I grow up I want to have a house just like Mummy’s.’ Her eyes stared off into the distance. ‘Or maybe a house like the castle on the hill.’
Brodick Castle. Logan stifled a laugh. It almost wouldn’t surprise him if Isla did have a castle when she was older.
He looked around. ‘Do you have a school bag yet, Isla?’
She shook her head and looked a little sad. ‘I wanted a proper satchel. Do you know what a satchel is?’
He nodded. ‘I think so.’
‘But Mummy can’t find one anywhere. She had one when she was a little girl and started school. I wanted a bag just like hers.’
Logan smiled. This would be easy. He could finally do something that felt right. ‘Was it made of leather?’ He pulled over the tablet his mother frequently used, typed in a few words and pulled up a picture of an old-fashioned-style leather school satchel.
Isla let out a squeal and jumped up. ‘That’s the one. Exactly like that. That’s the one I’m looking for.’ Her hands were jittery with excitement. ‘Can you tell Mummy?’
Logan shook his head. ‘Let’s not tell her yet.’ Then he frowned at his own words. The last thing he wanted to do was tell a child to keep a secret from her parent.
He pulled up a website. ‘I have a friend who makes these. Do you want a brown leather one like Mummy had?’ He clicked onto another page. ‘Or do you want a coloured leather one?’ He pointed at the screen. ‘You could get a green one to match your school uniform.’
‘Wow,’ said the little voice beside him. ‘That is so-o-o pretty.’ She touched her matching school jumper then pressed her fingers on the screen. ‘I like the green one, but I think I’d like the one that looked like Mummy’s best.’
Logan nodded. School satchels. He blinked at the price. No wonder his friend could make a living from this. The nostalgia bug was obviously alive and kicking.
Then he noticed something else. Four-to six-week delivery time. There were only two weeks until Isla started school. Just as well his friend owed him a favour. He scribbled down the phone number; he’d call him today.
‘I tell you what, Isla. If Mummy says she’s going to buy you a bag for school, tell her that Logan and Granny Scott are getting one for you. How’s that?’
Isla nodded. ‘Okay.’
Better. That was a much better solution. And Gemma might not object so much if she thought Logan’s mother was helping get Isla her bag for school.
Isla had picked up her crayons and started drawing. ‘Don’t you like us any more, Logan? You haven’t come to visit.’ Her face was solemn. ‘And you haven’t brought cakes.’
Logan felt his insides squirm. Gemma obviously hadn’t mentioned his last visit and it was probably for the best. ‘I like you and your mummy very much. Sometimes grown-ups get a bit busy. I’m sure I’ll come and visit soon.’
Was he wrong to tell a deliberate lie? After their last confrontation the chances of he and Gemma being in a room together were slim.
But there was something else ticking away at him. The time factor. It seemed like he’d worked a million hours this week. And his dad had done this job before him.
How had he managed it? Because Logan’s overwhelming memories were of a dad who had always been there and always had time for him. Could he ever fill shoes like those?
If he got his act together and contemplated being around Gemma and Isla, would he be fair? Would he have the time to invest in a relationship the way he should? The last thing he wanted to do was be unfair to the little girl who now wanted the tugboat stories read to her five times a day. He’d created a monster. And it was all his fault.
He wrinkled his nose. ‘Why have you got your school uniform on anyway?’ School didn’t start for two weeks.
Isla gave him a smile. ‘It was a practice run today. Do you know it takes much longer in the morning to get ready for school than it does for an ordinary day?’ She fingered her little red curls. ‘It took ages to do my hair.’ Her little face was solemn again. ‘And that was without Mummy making me a packed lunch for school.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ve still to pick a lunch box. I can’t decide which one I want.’
He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He’d noticed a plastic bag in the corner of the room. ‘Isla, are you supposed to keep wearing your uniform all day?’ He couldn’t imagine for a minute that Gemma wouldn’t have sent a change of clothes.
Isla looked a little sheepish. She stared down at her uniform again. ‘I like my uniform,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t want to take it off.’
He stared at the books on the table—recipe books with photographs of a whole variety of cakes, biscuits and tray bakes. Isla was obviously supposed to pick whatever they would bake today. He
could see her little blue pinafore hanging on a peg next to his mother’s. Looking as if it was supposed to be there.
Something curled inside him. A realisation.
He wanted it to be there.
He almost couldn’t believe it. Logan Scott, island bachelor, was once again picturing a woman in his future, and not only that but a woman with a child. Thank goodness he was sitting down.
Isla flicked through the recipe book until she found a picture of a rainbow-coloured cake. ‘Ooh, this one looks pretty. Do you think Granny Scott will let me make it? It might cheer my mummy up.’
He straightened in his chair. ‘Why would you need to cheer your mummy up?’
She tilted her head to one side. ‘Because she’s sad. She thinks I don’t know, but I do.’
Logan wanted to ask a million questions. He wanted to know exactly why Isla thought that. But he knew better than to question a child. It would be an invasion of Gemma’s privacy. She would eat him alive if she found out he was questioning Isla.
And the truth was he didn’t need to ask any questions. Children were much more perceptive than adults gave them credit for. And it didn’t surprise him that a bright little girl like Isla had picked up on something at home.
‘Do you think Granny Scott will let me make the rainbow cake?’ Isla asked again.
He nodded. ‘I think she might. On one condition.’
Isla looked at him suspiciously. ‘What?’
He pointed at the bag. ‘That you change your clothes. You don’t want to get your brand-new school uniform all floury.’
Isla seemed to take a few seconds, trying to decide if it was a reasonable trade-off.