The Road to Hope

by Rachael Johns

  ‘Thank you.’ Some of the lines around Alf’s eyes eased. ‘His food is in that cupboard near the fridge and he likes—’

  Tom didn’t get to hear any further cat-minding instructions because the volunteer ambulance officers arrived, calling ‘hello’ through the front door to announce themselves.

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Tuesday morning, Lauren woke with a heavy weight pressing into her chest. She panicked for all of two seconds before her eyes blinked open and focused on the large orange fur ball purring above her.

  ‘Well, hello there, Ginger’ she said, recognising Alf and Nancy’s cat immediately and reaching out to tickle him under the chin. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Of course she’d already guessed the answer. Which meant that Tom must have come home some time in the middle of the night. She got the usual jolt to her heart at the thought of him sleeping only a few metres away down the corridor and then remembered that—for some reason unbeknownst to her—they weren’t on speaking terms. Well, if he thought he could bring an animal guest into her house and maintain his cold shoulder, he had another think coming.

  She adored cats, but he didn’t need to know that. And she wanted to know the latest about Alf. Giving Ginger one final chin rub, she pushed him gently onto the other side of bed and rolled herself out. She tiptoed across her room and peered around the door, wanting to get to the bathroom before she encountered Tom. The whole not-looking-her-best-in-front-of-him thing had been discarded as a stupid idea the night they’d gone to the party. If she was going to confront him she didn’t want it to be in ratty pyjamas.

  When she emerged from the shower a few minutes later, the house was still quiet. Tom’s door was closed and Ginger was sprawled across her bed, taking up more room than any cat ever should. He roused when she came in and followed her out of the room and down the hallway once she was dressed. Darting ahead of her, he immediately went to two small bowls sitting by the sliding door. Beside the bowls stood a box of dried cat food. Ginger looked at the box and then looked at her, meowing as if irritated that he had to spell it out.

  ‘Oh, breakfast, right,’ she said, crossing the room and picking up the box. She shook some biscuits into his bowl and, while he munched, went to the sink to fill his other bowl.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She placed the water down next to him. ‘I’m not used to having a pet.’

  ‘Well, hopefully we won’t have him for too long.’

  She spun around at the sound of Tom’s deep, gravelly voice, her heart twisting a little at the way he said ‘we’. As if the two of them had a cat, together. In her fantasies it was a dog along with the hubby and kids, but she wasn’t fussy—a cat would do.

  ‘And, apparently—’ Tom ran a hand through his sleep-mussed hair, thankfully oblivious to her pathetic thoughts ‘—he doesn’t do water, or at least he prefers cream.’

  ‘Cream?’ Lauren swallowed, trying to focus on Ginger’s dietary preferences, which were safer to think about than Tom’s dishevelled but incredibly sexy morning look. ‘I thought you weren’t supposed to give cats dairy?’

  He shrugged. ‘Who knows? I’m a doctor, not a vet. Right now I couldn’t give a rat’s arse. I just want to keep this cat alive until Alf can take him home again.’

  Lauren didn’t care that Tom sounded grumpy; in fact she found it amusing and couldn’t help feeling joy that he was talking to her again. ‘How is Alf? What exactly happened?’

  Tom pulled out a kitchen chair and slumped into it. He looked in dire need of caffeine so Lauren got busy with his machine as she waited for him to reply.

  ‘He fell over sometime yesterday morning,’ he said eventually, ‘and broke his arm going down. Apparently he’s had a few falls lately but got unlucky this time. Without the use of both his arms he couldn’t get himself up. He dragged himself a bit trying to get to the phone, but it’s hung high on their kitchen wall so he couldn’t reach it.’

  ‘Poor Alf. He must have been beside himself.’

  ‘He was more worried about Nancy and that damn cat than what had happened to him.’ Tom glared at Ginger, who’d finished eating and was staring into his water bowl as if waiting for it to miraculously turn into cream. ‘No wonder he’s fat.’

  Lauren stifled a giggle. ‘Don’t you like cats?’

  ‘I had nothing against them till last night but that one annoyed me. I didn’t get back to Alf’s place till two o’clock, and then spent an hour chasing Ginger round the house.’ He held out his arms. ‘It was like chauffeuring a wildcat.’

  ‘Ouch.’ She winced. Even with raw scratch marks all over, they were still the sexiest damn forearms she’d ever laid eyes on. ‘Can I get you something to put on them?’

  ‘It’s fine. I rubbed some antiseptic cream on last night.’ He hit her with the first smile he’d offered in days and she almost melted on the spot. ‘But I’d kill for a cup of coffee.’

  ‘Already on to it.’ She filled a mug with freshly percolated goodness and laid it in front of him.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, before picking it up and practically inhaling it.

  ‘Can I get you breakfast?’ A voice inside her reminded her that she’d meant to hound him about giving her the silent treatment but he looked exhausted. And he had spent the night helping an old man and a cat. How could she think nasty thoughts about him after that?

  ‘Some toast would be awesome.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better have a quick shower first though. My first appointment is in half an hour.’

  ‘Go.’ She ushered him out of the kitchen, trying not to read too much into the fact that he was talking to her again. Maybe he was simply delirious from lack of sleep. Deciding to take whatever she could, she looked to Ginger apologetically. ‘I can give you some skimmed milk if that’ll do?’

  True to his word, Tom’s shower was lightning quick. When Lauren heard the water taps stop creaking, she popped two slices of wholegrain bread in the toaster. He returned to the kitchen a couple of minutes later to find his toast and Vegemite waiting.

  He sank into a chair. ‘Thank you,’ he uttered, before taking a bite. As he ate, Ginger wrapped himself around his legs, rubbing his head up and down Tom’s calves. He pretended to be annoyed and tried to ignore it, but Lauren caught him tearing off a bit of toast and tossing it down to the cat.

  She added ‘Kind to animals’ to her mental list of things that made him irresistible.

  Tom finished and despite being in a rush, washed his plate and mug and put them on the dish drainer. ‘Thanks for breakfast.’ He started for the door but turned back just before he reached it. ‘You are okay about us looking after Ginger, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. Sure. Not a problem.’ She waved her hand to indicate so. ‘Oh, but does he have a litter tray?’

  Tom nodded. ‘I put it in the laundry and showed him last night. Maybe show him again, but be careful. That thing is vicious.’

  Ginger rubbed against her leg and purred as if to prove Tom a liar. ‘We’ll be fine.’ She reached down and rubbed his neck. The purrs amplified.

  ‘Good.’ Tom made a move to go again but paused for a second time. ‘I hate to ask, but would you mind popping out and buying some cream for him? Alf’s sure to ask and I want to be able to put his mind at ease.’

  ‘Consider it done. I’m working the late shift again today. Now go, before Eileen is on the phone, demanding to know where you are.’ She made shooing movements with her hands, smiling at his genuine concern for an old man and his cat.

  When he was gone, Lauren picked up Ginger and squished him against her, his long whiskers tickling the side of her cheek. ‘I have to say, that was an improvement on the last few days,’ she told the cat. ‘And to think Tom is worried about you attacking me. I guess he does care after all.’

  She rested her chin on Ginger’s head and pondered that thought. Truth was, she had no idea what was going on inside Tom’s head, but she knew all too well what was happening in hers. Despite his distant behaviour,
she was falling in love with Tom Lewis and she wished he cared for her a whole lot more.

  That wasn’t too bad, Tom thought as he closed the front door behind him and headed for his ute. In the last ten minutes, he and Lauren had spoken more than they had in days, and it hadn’t been awkward. Not much. Maybe he could survive living and interacting with her after all. He simply needed to remember that anything more than friends was out of the question. And unfortunately that meant stepping back a little on their friendship, which had been progressing at a rip-roaring rate until he’d brought it to a screeching halt on Friday night.

  There could be no more cosy dinners or movie nights, but he would be civil. Besides, he could hardly move to the hospital rooms now he had a cat to look after. No way would he dump that vicious beast on Lauren and then run out on his responsibilities.

  For the first time in a few days he had a spring in his step when he entered the surgery. Eileen offered him her customary broad smile and thrust a steaming mug of coffee at him.

  ‘I heard you were out late last night,’ she said, ‘so I figured you’d need all the caffeine you could get today.’

  He took the coffee with gratitude. ‘Thanks.’ He didn’t know whether he’d ever get used to the speed at which news travelled through a small town, but in some cases it was beneficial. Coffee offerings were always welcome.

  After he’d taken a sip, Eileen handed him the first pile of patient folders. ‘Luckily we’re not too crazily booked today.’

  ‘Good.’ He glanced down at the top one. ‘Because I didn’t manage to get into the hospital this morning so I’ll need to do my rounds in my lunch break. I want to check on Alf, make sure he slept okay last night.’

  ‘Poor Mr Dixon.’ Eileen sighed, her ample bosom rising and falling in the process. ‘He’s always been such an independent soul. Being hospitalised will be like hell for him, although at least he’ll be near Nancy, bless her.’

  ‘I’m hoping we can work out a care plan that keeps him as independent as possible and gets him home soon,’ Tom told her.

  ‘You’re a good man, Dr Lewis.’ Eileen beamed at him again as their first patient walked through the door.

  Morning surgery sped by. There weren’t any long-winded or complex appointments, but Tom kept busy and before he realised it, Eileen was closing up for lunch. His stomach growled with hunger but he wanted to get to the hospital to see Alf before doing anything else.

  He found the old man sitting in the recliner next to Nancy’s bed. She was clutching her doll tightly to her side as Alf stared vacantly out the window, his broken arm strapped firmly to his chest.

  ‘Afternoon Alf,’ he said, injecting brightness into his voice. ‘How are you feeling?’

  Alf snorted, not turning to look at Tom. ‘How do you think I feel?’

  ‘Yep, stupid question. Sorry.’ Tom crossed the room to retrieve the plastic chair that sat in the corner. ‘Let’s start again. How’s the arm?’

  With a sigh, Alf met Tom’s gaze. ‘The pain has eased. That’s the one thing I can say in favour of this joint. They have good drugs.’

  Tom chuckled. ‘And hot nurses.’

  That got a smile from Alf. ‘That too. Although none could hold a candle to my Nancy.’ He glanced over at her and then began telling Tom about the day they met. How, even as a young school boy, he’d known Nancy was the one.

  Before Tom knew it, tears were streaming down Alf’s cheeks. Tom looked frantically around for a box of tissues.

  ‘It’s all right, mate.’ He patted Alf on the back, cursing his words the moment they were out. Nothing was right about any of this. Old age sucked the proverbial. He sat there while Alf sobbed, feeling utterly helpless and trying not to lose it himself.

  Finally Alf spoke again. ‘I was hoping to be home by Christmas, but I can’t even go to the loo by myself with this damn cast. If I’d broken my left arm, maybe, but trying to undo my fly with my left hand and then do the button up again? Impossible.’

  Tom tried to think of a practical solution. They could get him some elasticated shorts, which would be easier to manage with one hand, but that would only fix one problem. He couldn’t cook or wash himself properly without the function of one arm and he’d be at a higher risk of falling again.

  ‘Will your family be around for Christmas?’ he asked.

  Alf shook his head. ‘They all left for Queensland day before yesterday. Having Christmas on the Gold Coast or something. They wanted me to come but I couldn’t leave Nancy. I was going to take her out on Christmas Day, have her home for a few hours.’ He shook his head in frustration. ‘That’s not gonna happen now.’

  ‘Tell me about how you and Nancy used to spend Christmas,’ Tom asked.

  For the next half hour he listened to Alf and Nancy’s Christmas traditions. Occasionally Nancy roused slightly from slumber and appeared to be listening to Alf’s memories, many of which were similar to the way Tom’s family usually celebrated. He tried to focus on Alf’s words and not think about the fact that he’d be absent from his parents’ Christmas table for the first time ever.

  Somewhere during the course of their conversation Tom made a decision. Not spending Christmas with his sick father might make him the lowest of the low, but perhaps making sure Alf and Nancy and the other residents had the best Christmas possible would help even the score.

  There were six days until December twenty-fifth. Plenty of time to achieve his goal.

  ‘How’s Ginger?’ Alf asked as Tom stood to go.

  ‘He’s settling in fine. Lauren was popping out to get some cream for him this morning. We’re going to look after him the best we can.’

  Alf grinned. ‘That Lauren is a special woman. Knowing she’s looking after my Nancy helps me sleep better at night. Between you and me, she hasn’t got the best reputation around here. I’m not one to listen to gossip though. If you ask me she simply hasn’t met her man yet, but whoever that is will be one lucky bloke.’

  Tom swallowed. He liked hearing Lauren appreciated rather than berated, but the old man’s insinuation made him uncomfortable. Even if he wanted to be, he could never be the man Alf spoke about.

  Luck simply wasn’t on his side.

  Lauren couldn’t hide her shock when Tom appeared that evening as they were getting the residents into bed. The last few days he’d gone out of his way to avoid being at the hospital at the same time as her.

  ‘To what do we owe the pleasure, Dr Lewis?’ she asked, unable to rein in her sarcasm as she assisted Barbara and her walking frame down the corridor towards the bathroom.

  ‘You’re working Christmas Day, right?’ he asked, ignoring her jibe.

  She nodded.

  ‘I need to talk to you about that, but first, shall I help Ned get into bed?’ He glanced over his shoulder to where Ned still sat in his recliner in the lounge area.

  Lauren resisted the urge to lean over and place her hand against Tom’s forehead to check for a temperature. They’d been civil that morning when discussing Ginger’s needs, but this almost-friendly behaviour was a shock.

  ‘That would be great,’ she said, deciding to go with the flow. ‘Thanks.’

  Tom smiled and then continued down the corridor to Ned as Lauren applied gentle pressure on Barbara’s back to encourage her forward.

  ‘How’s things with you two?’ Barbara whispered.

  Lauren pretended she didn’t hear. But as she went through the routine of taking Barbara to the toilet, assisting her with brushing her teeth, getting her into her night clothes and then into bed, her mind was on Tom. The fact that he’d come to the hospital to see her, to talk to her—whatever it might be about—lifted her heart.

  Once the residents were in bed, Tom and Lauren sat down in the communal dining room with a cup of tea each and a plate of chocolate biscuits between them. Usually chocolate biscuits were the one sweet treat Lauren couldn’t resist, but tonight she was too consumed by his presence to eat. She tried not to stare as he lifted his mug to his mout
h and took a sip but he looked so damn hot it was almost impossible. Since he’d been avoiding her, there hadn’t been enough opportunities to appreciate him. Her feet twitched beneath the table, but she restrained herself from stretching out and brushing them up against his.

  ‘So?’ She forced what she hoped was a casual smile as her heart pitter-pattered in her chest, waiting for him to speak.

  He lowered his mug to the table and met her gaze. ‘I have a plan.’

  She quivered at his words, her traitorous hormones conjuring up all sorts of naughty fantasies about what this plan could be, but then she reminded herself of her resolve and tried to keep a straight face. ‘I’m all ears.’

  ‘I’ve been talking to Alf,’ he began, sounding all serious and sexy, ‘and he’s really cut up about him and Nancy being stuck in here for Christmas.’

  Lauren’s heart squeezed in sympathy. ‘That’s understandable. He’s had a tough time of things lately.’

  ‘Sure has, which is why I want to give him, Nancy and all the other residents who will spend Christmas in care the best day possible.’ Tom’s eyes lit up as he spoke and Lauren couldn’t help but catch his enthusiasm.

  She grinned. ‘What exactly do you have in mind, Dr Lewis?’

  ‘Well, I was thinking we could ask everyone—May, Barbara and Ned as well—about their favourite family Christmas traditions and then work out a way to incorporate them all into the day. It’s up to us to do this properly.’

  Us! Lauren’s insides shouldn’t have fizzed at the way he said this word, but she couldn’t help it. A hospital Christmas might not be what she really wanted to do with Tom, but it would give them a reason to interact again and for that she was grateful. Besides, she’d always be one hundred percent behind any efforts to make her old friends happy.

  ‘I’m in.’ She grinned. ‘What do we do first?’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Four days had passed since Tom sat Lauren down at the residents’ dining table to hit her with his Christmas plans and since then she’d felt like she was living with Santa’s little elf (although she could hardly call him little). With him buzzing about making festive lists and the local supermarket blaring carols from its stereo onto the street, she couldn’t help but be excited. And besides that, Tom with a bee in his bonnet was far preferable to hermit Tom.