‘They look like golden retrievers,’ Harry said, as the last puppy settled with his mother. Harry’s voice was distinctly unsteady. ‘Mixed with basset. And there’s definitely a spot of Dalmatian in there as well.’
‘They’re wonderful,’ Lizzie murmured, her voice laced with tears.
‘Lizzie?’
She looked up at him, her eyes shining.
‘Mmm.’
‘They’re not as wonderful as you,’ he said softly, and she shook her head.
‘Nope. It’s you who’s wonderful.’
‘Want to make it a competition?’
‘I might,’ she said cautiously.
‘Tell you what,’ he said, gathering her into his arms and holding her with such infinite tenderness that the world shifted and shifted again, and when it had settled it was right where it was meant to be. Right where it had been intended to be all along.
‘Wh-what…?’
‘It’s a kissing competition,’ he told her. ‘I’ll kiss you. You kiss me back. And we’ll keep on kissing until we’ve finally figured who’s more wonderful than who.’
‘It’ll never work.’ She was holding him tight, her love, her life, her future.
‘What’ll never work?’ He was temporarily distracted. Or maybe he was permanently distracted. From this day forth…
‘The competition.’
‘Oh, that. No sweat. We just keep kissing until it does.’
Only, of course, it couldn’t last. Amy had collected everyone in the hospital, and when they finally broke apart half the world was standing on the cliff path peering down at them with various levels of incredulity.
‘Harry!’ Emily was saying in tones of outrage.
‘Elizabeth!’ Edward was right beside her with outrage, and the two stood together in an unconscious union of affronted dignity.
‘I thought she was dead,’ Harry said, in a dazed sort of been-kissed-very-soundly voice to no one in particular. ‘When she yelled.’ He might have ceased kissing Lizzie but he wasn’t letting her go. ‘For a minute there I thought I’d lost her.’ He looked ruefully up at his erstwhile fiancée. ‘I’m sorry, Emily, but I’m marrying Lizzie.’
‘You’re marrying Lizzie?’ It was Lillian, staring over the edge in stunned delight. She was holding Amy by one hand, and Joey had hold of the other. A group. A little family all of its own.
‘I’m marrying Lizzie,’ Harry repeated, and he turned back to Lizzie. ‘I’m sorry, Em, but there it is.’
‘But…what about my bridesmaids?’
‘This is appalling,’ Edward managed. ‘To treat a woman like this.’ Unconsciously his hand came out to grip Emily’s. Emily did that to men. She was like a piece of Dresden china, perfectly executed and delicate. In need of protection.
In need of a radiologist…
‘I don’t… I can’t…’
Edward’s arm came around her waist.
‘But the puppies…’
It was Amy again, her ashen face trying to focus through her thick smeared-again glasses.
‘We have eight gorgeous puppies.’ Lizzie held one up. ‘Eight. Eight fabulous, wonderful puppies for you to choose from, Amy.’
‘A boat’s on its way to pick you up from the bottom.’ It was Kim, shoving her way to the front. ‘You’re sure you guys are all OK?’
‘One mother, eight babies and two obstetricians, all accounted for,’ Harry said, and hauled Lizzie in to kiss her again.
‘Um…would you mind refraining just for a moment?’ Kim asked.
Harry grinned and nodded and let Lizzie go. About two inches. ‘Yes, Doctor.’
‘The puppies are well?’ Kim asked, and Harry nodded.
‘All well.’
‘I don’t want one as a mascot,’ Joey called. ‘I want one for real.’
‘And I need one, too,’ Lillian said. ‘Please…’
‘Me, too.’ It was Terry, who’d come in today for his checkup and had somehow been drawn in to the excitement. His mother was standing by his side. ‘Mum, my testicles hurt a whole heap before Dr McKay operated. You said if I was good… You said if I didn’t tell the other kids what had happened to me, you’d get me a present. Mum, a puppy’d be great. I could call him…Nuts!’
Her son, talking about testicles in public! Lizzie looked up at the woman’s face and choked with laughter. Amazingly, Terry’s mother’s puritanical sternness was threatening to crack apart, right there and then. There was laughter on the woman’s face. And…the beginnings of joy?
Who could not smile at this happy ending? At this happy beginning. A puppy called Nuts. The world was changing in all sorts of wonderful ways.
‘And me.’ It was Tom, May’s big husband. Heavens, the whole hospital must be on the cliff-top. ‘May and I have a property to fill with animals. One of those puppies would fit right in.’
‘They do look cute.’ It was Emily. From the sanctuary of Edward’s protective arm she’d sniffed herself back under control and now she was peering down the cliff to where Harry had lifted a pup who’d squirmed his way out of range of his mother’s licks.
‘I’ll buy one for you,’ Edward said, astonishing even himself. He coughed and tried to glare but his arm tightened on Emily. ‘How much?’
Emily gazed up at him, amazed. There was a moment’s stunned silence at this unexpected turn of events. Then, while they watched, Emily’s face changed. She smiled. And she moved imperceptibly closer while Edward’s arm hauled her even nearer.
‘How much?’ Edward asked.
‘We’ll have to see.’ Harry’s grin was threatening to split his face. ‘Dr Darling and I need to discuss it. At leisure. Put in your bids and we’ll think about it. But you can’t have them all.’
‘Why not?’ Amy was smiling and smiling. And smiling some more. She’d thought Phoebe was dead. She’d thought the end of the world had come. Now she knew one of these puppies was definitely hers. She’d saved Phoebe. The little girl was growing in stature while they watched. ‘Why can’t everyone have one?’
‘Lizzie and I want one,’ Harry said. And then he looked down at the squirming mass of brand-new puppies. ‘Or maybe two.’
‘And no one gets a single puppy until after the wedding,’ Lizzie decreed.
The wedding?
Harry looked tenderly at his love, and the look on his face said he knew exactly what wedding she was talking about. Whose wedding. His arm tightened around her and all the joy of the morning was in his face. ‘Why not?’ he asked tenderly. ‘Why not, my love?’
‘Because I don’t want bridesmaids,’ she managed. ‘Instead of bridesmaids, I want brides-pups. Eight brides-pups with Phoebe as matron of honour.’
Memo:
Real doctors don’t tie pew ribbons.
Real doctors tie…basset ribbons?
Nine basset ribbons. Not enough, really. Maybe we could aim for more.
Marion Lennox
***
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Darling’s Care
In Dr. Darling’s Care Page 18
