The Road to Hope

by Rachael Johns

  With his Christmas plans in full swing, tonight or tomorrow were out of the question, which was why Lauren didn’t let disappointment dampen her mood when Tom said he was in need of an early night. She smiled and bid him sweet dreams and then rushed to her own room, where she knew sleep would likely elude her for hours. She picked up her iPad, got comfy amongst the abundance of cushions that decorated her bed and then started reading. In the years before the internet, she’d have had to wait until she could visit a library to get any real facts, but now a virtual medical encyclopaedia and more were at her fingertips.

  As she’d feared, there was little joyful to read about early onset Alzheimer’s. It was a debilitating, dignity-robbing, heartbreaking disease that not only affected the sufferers but also their loved ones. It also progressed at much more rapid pace than age-related Alzheimer’s. Lauren read about diagnosis, about living with the illness, about overcoming stigma and planning for the future. She read in detail about the testing, struggling to understand acronyms such as APP, PS1 and PS2 but having so much more motivation to do so than she’d had during any of her years studying nursing.

  Although there was currently no definitive cure, research showed that certain drugs slowed the progression of symptoms, and one website recommended that people at risk take daily doses of Vitamin E and C, some baby aspirin and also a statin tablet as anything good for the heart was also good for the brain. She gripped the iPad tightly when she read this, thinking back to that first weekend when she’d seen all those tablet packages on Tom’s bed. Were they part of his efforts to protect himself against disease?

  The next sentence gave more ammunition for this case. The article recommended that those at risk or already in the early stages of Alzheimer’s develop a good exercise program (swimming, running and surfing—check), eat a balanced diet (the worst she’d ever seen him eat was bacon and cookies—check) and keep their brain stimulated (crosswords and logic puzzles—check).

  When Lauren finally succumbed to slumber in the early hours of Christmas morning, she was more certain than ever that Tom thought himself at risk. But whether he’d been tested or not, whether he knew for sure or was merely fearful of the possibility, made no difference to her feelings.

  None of it mattered to her. So he might get sick one day. That didn’t change how she felt about him. It didn’t change anything at all. He was a kind-hearted man and a caring doctor, not to mention good-looking, funny and all the rest. However much she’d tried to resist, Lauren had to face facts.

  She’d fallen hard for Dr Delicious.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  For two seconds after he woke on Christmas morning, Tom lay in bed relaxed from a good night’s sleep. Then he remembered what day it was, and the guilt he’d been struggling with the past few months hit him like a ton of bricks. What was he doing in a small town in Western Australia, far away from everyone and everything he cared about?

  Two and a half hours ahead in Adelaide, his whole family would be sitting down to breakfast at his parents’ place. The lounge room floor would be littered with ripped up pieces of festive wrapping paper and the house would be sweet with the smell of the pumpkin muffins his mum made every Christmas morning. There’d be bacon and croissants (chocolate and plain) and a whole host of other delicious treats. His nieces would likely already have chocolate smeared lips from half devouring their Cadbury stockings.

  Breakfast had always been an elaborate affair in the Lewis household, but on Christmas Day they took extravagance to a whole new level. Since his sisters had married and had to divide their time between home and their husbands’ families on special occasions, Mum had claimed breakfast as the Lewis event. It was a loose term because breakfast started the moment the kids awoke and went until almost midday, when those who had to go visit partners’ families would stumble out the door, so full they swore they wouldn’t be able to manage anything else for the rest of the day.

  Tom’s chest tightened at the thought of missing out on all the fun and frivolities at home, but when he’d decided to go travelling, he hadn’t known if he’d be able to summon enough enthusiasm for Christmas and he hadn’t wanted to put a dampener on everyone else’s celebrations. Looking back he wished he’d kept his test results to himself, or lied about them. It would have been easier to pretend that everything was okay—that he was okay—if he’d told his family his results matched Monica’s. But he hadn’t been thinking straight when he’d received them and he’d been open and honest with everyone.

  Except his dad. He hadn’t been able to tell him, and he hoped like hell that nobody else had either.

  The guilt swirled and sat in his gut like a dodgy take-out meal. Not only had he not told his dad his results, he hadn’t even talked to him since he left. He couldn’t bear the thought of his dad one day not recognising him so he’d put distance between them instead. Logically he knew that didn’t make sense, that like his mum, he should be making the most of whatever quality time they had left together, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

  The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt. The Christmas spirit he’d gone to bed with last night had left and if he continued to let his thoughts wander down this track, he wouldn’t be able to drag himself out of bed, never mind put on a happy face and give the residents a day to remember. Taking a deep breath, he rolled over and came face to face with his mobile phone on the bedside table.

  He took it as a sign and before he could make any excuses, he picked up and dialled home. Getting the obligatory phone call out of the way would mean he could focus his energies elsewhere for the rest of the day. His heart beat slowly and he swore it echoed in his ears as he waited for someone to answer the phone.

  When he heard his dad say, ‘Hello, Rick Lewis speaking,’ shock almost made him disconnect. He sounded so…normal.

  Tom opened his mouth but the usual greeting tripped on his tongue.

  ‘Hello? Anyone there?’

  ‘Dad, it’s me,’ Tom rushed, not wanting to do anything that might fluster his father.

  ‘Tom! So good to hear from you, son.’ Joy filled Rick’s voice and Tom struggled to keep back the tears that bubbled up at the knowledge his dad still knew who he was. ‘How are you?’

  Somehow he spoke over the emotion clogging his throat. ‘I’m okay, Dad. What about you?’

  Rick chuckled. ‘I’m stuffed full of your mother’s muffins, but I’m guessing you’re referring to my state of mind.’

  Tom smiled; he’d always loved his dad’s no-nonsense, straight-down-the-line, no-bullshit attitude to life. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact much lately,’ he found himself saying.

  ‘You’re a busy man, son. I don’t want my health woes holding you back. But the odd postcard now and then wouldn’t go astray. Or have you sent one and I’ve forgotten.’ Rick cursed. ‘I’ll be honest, some days are better than others.’

  ‘I’ve been a bit lax with postcards I’m afraid,’ Tom managed, hating the raw emotion in his father’s confession. They’d always spoken about everything, yet Tom had run from this mammoth thing like a spineless coward. ‘But I promise that’s going to change. Did you get anything good for Christmas?’

  ‘What? The usual I guess.’ Rick sounded a little confused. ‘I’ll just put Anna on.’ The phone went muffled and Tom vaguely heard, ‘Anna, love, Tom wants to speak to you.’

  Tom tried to take comfort in the fact that his father still remembered him, but his abrupt end to the conversation hurt. He knew that the longer he stayed away, the quicker he’d fade in his dad’s memory.

  ‘Darling, how are you? Merry Christmas,’ came his mum’s faux-chirpy voice. He could always tell when she was only just holding it together.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Mum.’ He didn’t ask how she was going because he didn’t want to push her over the edge when he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces. Of course that drew the conversation up short and left a gaping silence.

  Finally she said, ‘What are
you up to today?’

  ‘I’m going into the hospital, actually. To spend the day with some of the elderly patients.’

  ‘That sounds nice,’ she replied. He wasn’t sure whether she genuinely meant it or if the undertone in her words meant she thought exactly the same thing he now wondered: Why the hell was he spending such an important day with other sick people when his father needed him?

  ‘Look, I can’t speak for long,’ he said, hating the words even as he spoke them, ‘so does anyone else want to chat before I go?’

  ‘I’ll pass you onto your sisters. Have a good Christmas, darling.’

  ‘You too, Mum.’

  He did the rounds, wishing his sisters and their families a good day. He thought he’d gotten away with meaningless conversation until his oldest sister, Caroline, came on the line.

  She’d been silent on the topic of his results and had merely communicated via email since he’d gone, but it seemed Christmas was her breaking point.

  ‘This is getting ridiculous, Tom.’ She spoke like she was talking to one of her daughters and not her grown brother. ‘We know you’re hurting. Hell, we’re all hurting for you, but one day you’re going to regret losing this time with Dad.’

  Her words hit him in the solar plexus because they were true. But she didn’t understand. He wanted to go home, knew it was the right thing to do, but once he’d started running, he hadn’t been able to slam on the brakes and turn back.

  ‘I’ll come home soon,’ he told her, hoping it wasn’t a lie; silently willing himself to find the strength from deep within and face the music.

  Whether Caroline believed him or not, she left it at that and the phone call ended soon after. And then he heard the water running in the bathroom, indicating that Lauren was up. They’d made plans to eat breakfast in the hospital—croissants with homemade jam and cream at Barbara’s request—but he made coffee to stop himself thinking of her naked in the shower while he waited for his turn. Anything to avoid another ridiculous daydream that left him hard and unsatisfied.

  Tom sat down at the table with his coffee and opened one of his puzzle books at a particularly challenging crossword, but only managed two answers before Lauren—dressed in her uniform—emerged like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day. A very sexy ray of sunshine. Her smile embraced him like a warm blanket, reminding him that whatever guilt or other emotions he was suffering, today wasn’t for or about him.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, summoning enthusiasm from deep within. ‘Sleep well?’

  She shrugged one shoulder. ‘Okay, but I’m so glad you’ve made coffee.’

  ‘Help yourself. I’ll jump in the shower quickly and then we’d better be off.’ He hurried to the bathroom and relished the hot shards of water that slammed into his back, washing away at least some of his tension. Later, while he rubbed himself dry, he decided to simply get through today and then reassess this whole travelling doctor, being-away-from-his-family thing. He left his worries in the bedroom, shut the door firmly behind him and returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Damn, that was good.’ Lauren dumped her empty mug in the sink and shot him another smile that hit him right where it shouldn’t. ‘Shall we go?’

  Tom nodded and they headed out of the kitchen and down the hallway.

  As he opened the front door for Lauren and then locked it behind them, he cursed the thought that lodged itself in his head. No matter how much he tried to keep an emotional distance, he couldn’t help thinking how right being with her felt. Aside from the whole trying-not-to-jump-her-bones thing, living with Lauren felt normal and easy. So much easier than living with Lisa, who’d been a Nazi about kitchen organisation and daily schedules. Some women you had to work hard to be with; Lauren, he had to work hard not to be with. He pushed that thought aside as they both settled into his ute. The sound of their seatbelts clicking into place echoed through the cabin.

  ‘What’s that scent?’ he asked, smelling something floral but not overpowering.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’

  On the contrary, it made him want to lean close to Lauren and inhale her. ‘No, I do like it. A lot. I just can’t put my finger on it.’

  ‘It’s called Happy. It’s flowers and citrus.’

  He wondered why he hadn’t smelled it before.

  ‘My mum sent it to me for Christmas,’ she said, answering his unasked question. ‘She sends a different perfume every year.’

  It didn’t seem very personal, but he kept that opinion to himself. ‘Merry Christmas by the way.’ He suddenly wished he’d bought her a present. He’d ummed and ahhed and eventually decided against it because he didn’t want to give the wrong impression. Thankfully she didn’t appear to have bought him anything either.

  ‘And to you too,’ Lauren said. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

  His breath caught at her heartfelt words and he fought the urge to lean over and kiss her. Would a chaste peck on the cheek be too dangerous?

  ‘I’m ashamed to say I wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to give the residents a good Christmas without you,’ she continued, smiling at him, ‘but I’m so happy you let me be a part of it.’

  He didn’t think that was exactly correct. She really had no idea how far above and beyond she went in her caring for the residents all the time.

  ‘What else would I do?’ he replied lightly, not wanting to dwell too much on her. ‘Cook a lonely meal for one and watch cheesy Christmas movies all day? I can’t think of anything more depressing.’

  She laughed. ‘I see your point. Let’s do this.’

  This became a day even busier than he’d imagined. For a bunch of octogenarians, these folks certainly knew how to have a good time. They exclaimed excitedly over the presents Tom and Lauren had wrapped for them—a CD of hits from the fifties for Alf and Nancy, a new board game for Ned, more nail polish colours for Barbara and a large-print edition of Pride and Prejudice for May. Only last week, she’d mentioned how it was her favourite book but she could no longer read the small print in her copy. Then, after they ate more breakfast than they’d usually consume in a month, May’s daughter came to collect her for Christmas on their farm. Tom thought the others might want a rest after that, but Ned and Alf had other ideas.

  ‘Let’s have a game of Scrabble,’ Ned suggested, rubbing his hands together like an excited child.

  ‘Good idea,’ Alf agreed. ‘I haven’t played that since the kids were little.’

  Barbara joined in too, with Nancy sitting next to Alf and occasionally making a wacky comment on the progression of the game. Lauren even managed to play in between helping the agency nurse with the few patients in the main part of the hospital.

  Tom watched Lauren as she worked. She was so damn competent, flitting about from task to task but never making her patients feel as if she’d rather be doing something else. She was everything a good nurse should be, but sadly so many fell short of the mark. He tried to focus on the patients—that was why he was here after all—but the more he tried not to notice her, the more she got under his skin.

  Pretty much the only reprieve he got was when he took Barbara into the kitchen before lunch to help prep the meal. He pulled up a chair and sat alongside her as she cut the tops off fresh string beans. It was a simple task, but she took longer than most people would due to her slightly shaky hands. Still, just having the opportunity to be in the kitchen and make a contribution towards lunch set a smile on her face larger and brighter than any he’d ever seen before. Barbara didn’t usually grumble about her situation, but seeing her here in her element only emphasised to him how frustrating her everyday life must be.

  ‘What’s that glum face all about, Dr Lewis?’ asked Helen as she raced back and forth across the kitchen.

  Tom blinked and looked up at her. The woman looked exactly like a cook should look; large all over and shiny faced but happy. ‘Glum?’ He summoned a smile. ‘I’m not glum. It’s Christmas. I’m simply thinking about all the food.’

&nb
sp; Helen appeared satisfied with that response and went back to her busy work, but Barbara gave him a look akin to the ones his mother used to give him when he was not telling her the whole truth about something.

  ‘What?’ he asked, frowning at her.

  ‘Does your mood have something to do with a certain pretty nurse?’

  He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable being grilled by a patient, especially when she was spot on the money. ‘I’m not in a mood,’ he lied. ‘I’m just contemplative. Isn’t Christmas a time for thinking? A time to take stock of your life?’

  Barbara snorted. ‘I wouldn’t know about that. I thought it was a time to drink and be merry.’

  But seemingly content not to grill him further, Barbara went back to her beans and Tom breathed a sigh of relief. When the veggies were done, Helen allowed Barbara a few quick whisks of the Yorkshire Pudding batter. Tom guessed it was a far cry from the effort Barbara used to put in when in the kitchen, but the chance to be even a little bit involved had made her day. And it lifted his mood a little too.

  When midday came and it was time for Barbara to get ready for lunch, she thanked Helen profusely. ‘I’m here to help whenever you need me.’

  Tom held his breath, waiting for Helen’s brusque response, but she surprised him by stooping down to Barbara’s eye level. ‘How about we make this a regular thing? I’ll bet you have some old recipes you could teach me. What do you say?’

  Barbara opened her mouth as tears filled her eyes. ‘I’d like that.’

  Satisfied that he’d done well for Barbara at least, Tom wheeled her back towards the residential wing. On the way they met Lauren coming out of the nurses’ station.

  ‘How was it?’ she asked, glancing quickly at him before focusing her attention on Barbara.

  ‘Brilliant.’ Barbara beamed.

  ‘I’m so pleased. Now, let’s get you dressed up for lunch.’ Lauren stepped forward and went to take over the wheelchair but her fingertips brushed against his as he rushed to remove his hands. Their eyes met again and his breath caught in his throat. Sparks he shouldn’t be feeling flashed between them and he swallowed as he shoved his hands into his pockets.