The Army Doc's Christmas Angel

by Annie O'Neil

  What on earth was she going to talk to Finn Morgan about for twenty whole minutes? How he made her insides turn into an entirely new weather system? How she didn’t normally blush when men winked at her? Or how, even if the blush led to something more, he could never follow through because she’d left her heart behind in Africa?

  “Everything all right in there?”

  “Yeah. Great!” Wow. She didn’t know her voice went that high. “’Course. Why?”

  “Well...” Finn looked at her through slightly narrowed eyes. “You’re just...standing there. Have you lost something?”

  My sanity.

  “Nope! All good.” She pulled on her hoodie and then her puffer jacket over it, yanking the zipper up so fast she nearly caught her chin in it when she hit the top. “Ready to go?”

  * * *

  Finn was really beginning to question his own grip on reality. What was he doing?

  First, acting like a first-class show-off idiot in the gym.

  Second, asking to walk a girl home like he was a nineteen-fifties teenage boy.

  And, third, making up a story about meeting Charlie for a drink when he knew damn well his friend was at home, helping his children decorate the Christmas tree.

  What a doofus.

  Way to show the pretty girl you like her. Walking mutely along the festively lit streets of Cambridge as if you couldn’t wait to shake her off.

  Which he couldn’t.

  He pretended he had to scratch his chin on his shoulder so he could see if she looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

  Yup! Pretty much. Romeo of Cambridge strikes again!

  Not that he was courting her or anything like that. They were just colleagues, walking down the cobbled streets of a particularly attractive-looking university city on a frosty, clear-skied, festively lit night. Just the type of night that would be perfect for holding one of her mittened hands.

  If he liked her that way.

  Which he didn’t. Not least of all because his dating track record after his ex totaled a handful of one-night stands that never should’ve happened. Turned out the chicks didn’t dig a surly one-legged bastard intent on becoming the best pediatric limb specialist in the UK.

  He gave his face a scrub and groaned.

  “Oh, my goodness!”

  Though she whispered it, Finn heard Naomi’s exclamation.

  He dropped his hand, hoping she hadn’t seen his what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here face. The last thing he needed to introduce into his life was romance. Saying that, he’d be little short of an idiot to ignore the chemistry between the pair of them.

  Then again, he was pretty skilled at being an idiot.

  What a nightmare.

  “Is that...? Is that Santa?”

  Finn looked to his left and saw Santa appear around a corner. He turned back to Naomi, only to see she was looking the opposite direction...at another Santa.

  They and the Santas were just entering Market Square in the city center. The temporary vendors had taken the “deck the halls” edict to the fullest definition. There were long swags of evergreen caught up in bright red velvet ribbons twirled around the lampposts, giving them a North Pole effect. The shopfronts all glittered and twinkled with their own festive displays. The daytime vendors had handed over to the temporary Christmas market stalls that were positively bursting with seasonal delights—edible and otherwise. Someone was roasting actual chestnuts over a crackling fire and from just about every street that led onto the small square was a Santa. And another and another until it finally dawned on them.

  “We’re in a Santa flash mob!”

  They blinked at one another.

  Again they’d spoken in tandem. And something about the synchronicity of the moment felt like fairy dust and kismet. Just like the atmosphere in the square. Someone had put on some music and was piping it through speakers Finn couldn’t quite locate. Maybe in the vicinity of the huge Christmas tree lit up in a swirl of tiny golden lights.

  “C’mon. If we go over here, up onto the church steps, you should be able to see.”

  “See what?” Naomi jogged a few steps to catch up with him.

  “The dancing. I’ve seen this type of thing on the internet. The Santas all get together, do a dance or sing a carol.”

  Naomi stopped and blinked her disbelief. “You watch flash mobs on the internet?”

  “Moi?” He feigned horror at the thought then shrugged a confessional, “Yeah, maybe...”

  Naomi was more than familiar with his roughty-toughty grumble-guts routine. Not that he put it on or anything, she just...there was something about her that spoke to him and somewhere along the way he’d lost his ability to speak back. Growling was a go-to reaction. Overreaction, from the look of things. When she smiled...something he’d seen far too little of...it felt as though his whole world was lighting up from the inside out.

  “C’mon.” He held his arm out to block the crowds so Naomi could get through and find a good spot to watch as the Santas did, in fact, fall into formation and perform a street dance to a new Christmas song that had whisked its way to the top of the pop charts.

  Finn was enjoying watching Naomi every bit as much as he was enjoying the Santas. Her smile was bright and genuine. She clapped along with the crowd when all the Santas encouraged them to do so. She even threw in a few “Woos!” when the dancing elves who’d joined the Santas pulled off a particularly athletic dance sequence. At one point, she dropped her hands after a brisk rub together and one of them shifted against Finn’s. Her eyes sped to his as if she’d felt the exact same thing he had when they’d touched. Fireworks.

  * * *

  Naomi was grateful to have found mittens in her pocket for a number of reasons.

  One. It was freezing.

  Two. They gave her something to fiddle with when Finn looked at her so intently she thought those gray eyes of his were going to bore a hole straight through her and see the myriad sensations that went off in her head when their hands had brushed.

  And, three...

  There wasn’t really a three, other than they were a similar shade of gray to Finn’s eyes, which she could not stop staring into, so she needed to make her excuses and go.

  “I’m really sorry, I need to—”

  “I suppose Charlie’s probably waiting for me at the—”

  They stared at one another for a moment, their breath coming out in little white puffs, the music and excitement of the flash mob buzzing around them like a blur of fireflies.

  “Neither of us are particularly good at finishing sentences tonight,” Finn finally said. He tipped his head toward the opposite end of the square but didn’t explain why.

  “No.” Naomi’s lips remained frozen in the “O” they’d formed as she looked up at him.

  It would be so easy to close that small gap between them. If she just rose up on to the tips of her nearly frozen toes...

  “I guess you’d better get to your meeting,” she said.

  “What?”

  Yeah. What? You were having a moment.

  “With Charlie? Aren’t you meeting Charlie for a drink?” she reminded him.

  What are you doing? The man was obviously trying to get to know her. He probably just needed a friend. It would be mean to shut him down. Especially since she could do with someone to talk to as well. Someone who understood the types of feelings patients like Adao elicited.

  Guilt.

  Fear.

  Bone-deep sorrow.

  Finn shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. “Yes. Absolutely right. Charlie’s probably on his second pint by now.” He flicked his hand toward the dispersing Santas. “Easily distracted tonight.”

  His gray eyes returned to hers, his look so intense she blinked and had to look away.

  “Right, well. Thanks for the e
scort. I mean...company walking back.”

  “You’re all right to get to your flat on your own?”

  She looked at Finn as if he’d grown wings and popped on a halo. What was he doing? Going for boy scout of the year to make up for being such a grouch the other day? Or was he actually a genuinely nice guy outside the hospital walls? Maybe he was a bit like her. Wore a mask to work and took it off once he was alone. Only they seemed to have chosen opposite masks to cope. He’d looked so content, so happy with the children at the sports center and even now there were glimmers of that guy standing right in front of her, waiting for her to say something. Do something.

  She simply didn’t know how to access the “old” Naomi. The one who had never once imagined a world without her parents or boyfriend in it.

  “I’m fine.” She gave him a tight smile and a little wave and left before they drew out what was quickly becoming a shambles of a farewell.

  It wasn’t until she’d run up the stairs to her flat, opened the door, thrown her keys into the bowl on the table by the door, just as she’d done every night ever since the hospital had opened, and flicked on the light that she realized she wasn’t fine at all.

  She had been thrown off balance.

  By the unexpected fun of the flash mob.

  The impending session she was going to hold with Adao, who still had to crack a smile.

  But most of all by Finn.

  It had been a long time since someone had unnerved her in this way. And she wasn’t entirely sure which way she was hoping it would go.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “DON’T WORRY, ADAO. It’s still early days.” Naomi rubbed her hand across the little boy’s shorn head and tried to coax a smile out of his somber little face.

  She’d been giving him a massage and manipulating his shoulder joints to try and prevent any blood clots. This type of physiotherapy was critical at this phase of his recovery. And painful, too.

  Adao dropped his head and it all but broke Naomi’s heart to see two fat tears fall onto his blanket.

  “I want Mama and Baaba.” Adao’s voice caught on the final word and he barely managed to stem a sob.

  Naomi ached to pull him into her arms. Tell him everything would be all right. His loneliness and grief tore at her chest with a ferocity she hadn’t felt in years.

  She wanted her mother and father, too. Not a single day had passed since they’d been stolen away that she hadn’t ached for their presence in her life. And that of her boyfriend. All lost to a foolish war that had, ultimately, come to nothing. Her country was run by the military now. It was a place she’d never be able to call home again.

  “I know, love. I know.” She gave his head a soft caress and before she could think better of it dropped a kiss on top of his head and pulled him to her for a half-hug, doing her best not to put any pressure on his loosely bandaged wound.

  “Hey!”

  They both looked up as Finn appeared at the doorway. His hair looked like he’d just come in from a windstorm and his eyes were bright with energy. He gave the doorframe a couple of polite knocks after he’d quickly taken in the scene. “Mind if I come in?”

  Adao didn’t even bother to disguise the tears now pouring down his gorgeous plump cheeks.

  Finn’s eyebrows instantly drew together and he crossed the room in three quick long-legged strides. “Are you in pain, little man?”

  Adao shook his head. Then nodded. Then shrugged as the tears continued to fall. It was all Naomi could do not to burst into tears herself.

  Physio was often difficult. Often produced tears. Tears of frustration. Tears of pride on a good day, but this was different.

  He was a lonely, lost, terrified little boy who wanted his parents.

  “Naomi’s not been putting you through her torture chamber, has she, mate?”

  A few days ago Naomi would’ve taken umbrage at the question, but now, having seen a new side of Finn, she took it for what it was. A playful attempt to draw a smile from a frightened child. To be honest, she was grateful for the intervention as she was struggling to find anything to say that would make him feel better.

  Finn pulled a chair up alongside Adao’s bed across from Naomi. He held out his hand for Adao’s. When Adao didn’t move his, Finn took it in both of his own, ducking his head so he could catch the little boy’s eyes.

  “Listen, bud. I know this is tough. You know I know, right?”

  Adao nodded.

  “I showed you mine...and pretty soon you’ll be able to show me yours.”

  “But...all I have is...is...” Adao whispered, tears falling everywhere as he turned to look at his heavily bandaged shoulder. He was still a good week—maybe even a fortnight—away from trying out a prosthesis.

  “I know.” Finn shot a quick look at Naomi, who pulled a fresh packet of tissues out of her pocket and put them in Adao’s lap, keeping one for herself. Just in case.

  Definitely, more like. She was already scanning her brain for a private corner just as soon as was humanly possible.

  “Bud, look at me. You’re talking to someone who’s been there and has come out on the other side. The good side. You’ve got a while yet with the compression garments. They’ll support your arm—”

  Adao let out a small whimper and then began to cry in earnest.

  Just then one of the local hospital volunteers—a lovely grandmotherly type called Mabel—came in with a cup of steaming tea cradled in her hands. She’d assigned herself the task of reading Adao stories since the charity that had brought him here was unable to provide “on the ground” support.

  “Oh, Adao!” She threw a quick inquisitive look at Naomi and nodded at the spot where she stood. Obviously it was “her” spot. “Do you mind? I think maybe we need a bit of quiet time.”

  A swarm of responses jammed in Naomi’s throat. All of them were a muddled ache to help and the conflicting, urgent need to push everything back into place that this moment was unzipping.

  “Of course.” She stepped away from the bed. There was no point in telling Adao she’d be back the next morning. And the next. He was leaning into Mabel’s arms and giving himself over entirely to his grief.

  Finn took up Adao’s charts and quietly explained to Mabel about when to call the nurses for pain management or, if things took a turn for the worse, when to call him.

  Naomi felt invisible. Worse, actually. She felt powerless.

  Just as she had on that day nearly fifteen years ago when her heart had pounded so loudly she could barely hear the shouts and screams. Shame washed over her as the memories slammed to the fore. Her hiding place. The gunfire. The stench of hot metal filling her nostrils as she’d clenched her eyes tight against what she’d known was happening.

  Everyone she loved had gone when she’d found the courage to open them again. Fear had turned her into a coward—not a hero like Finn. And with that knowledge came another bitter home truth. She did not deserve unconditional love. She’d thought she’d loved her parents and boyfriend unconditionally, but she had failed at the first hurdle and had just saved herself. And for that solitary selfish act, she could never forgive herself.

  * * *

  “Naomi! Wait.” Finn jogged to catch up to her. Damn, she could crank up the speed when she wanted to. No doubt all that running she did along the river.

  Not that he’d clocked her doing her stretches outside the hospital most days before shift. No...he didn’t do things like that. The less you knew about someone, the easier it was not to care.

  And yet here he was, actively avoiding his own advice. Maybe Christmas was a time of miracles.

  “Let me take you to lunch.”

  Her eyes went wide. He fought not to do the same. He didn’t ask women to lunch.

  Colleague.

  A colleague wrestling with the age-old dilemma. Getting too close to a pati
ent. Most of the time the essential emotional distance needed just clicked into place. It didn’t take a brain surgeon—or someone who’d been forced to go through a shedload of PTSD counseling as he had—to see this little boy had wormed his way straight into her heart. And he knew he wasn’t the only one to have noticed.

  “I’ve already had a sandwich, thanks.” Her tone was apologetic rather than dismissive. And if he wasn’t mistaken, the swipe at her eyes wasn’t a bit of primping. She was fighting tears.

  “Coffee, then.” He steered her toward the elevators and put on his best stab at a jaunty salesman’s voice. “I hear they’ve got some festive pastries down in the atrium café. I could grab some and meet you down by the river.”

  “What?” she snapped, dark eyes flashing with a sudden flare of indignation. “So you don’t have to be seen being nice to me in public?”

  “Hey.” He lifted his hands up in protest. Talk about wrong end of the stick!

  She carried on over him, clearly having found her voice again. A very cross voice. “There’s no need. I’m more than happy to carry on working. Unless you think I’m not up to the job.” She squared herself off to him, eyes blazing with challenge.

  “You’re crossing a line.” He cut her off cold, the smile dropping from his face. He knew she was upset, but he’d never questioned her professional skills. “No one’s doubting your ability to do your job.”

  She harrumphed. “Are you sure about that? This little talk of yours isn’t actually some sugar-laced ploy to let me down easily? Tell me you’ve decided to put someone else on the case?”

  “I will if you carry on like this.” Finn meant it, too. There was more than an impassioned plea to do her job crackling in her eyes. Adao’s presence here had turned her normally chirpy demeanor raw with emotion.

  “Are you kidding me?” For a moment Naomi struggled to come up with the best retaliation. “This is what I do. It’s all I do. No hidden talents here. No secret skills in the kitchen. Or special volunteering projects. Sorry to disappoint, Mr. Morgan.”

  “Finn,” he corrected her, trying to shake the defensive reaction that shot his shoulders up and around his ears. “And let’s leave the sports center out of it, shall we? Those kids are...”