Dr. Romano's Christmas Baby

by Amy Andrews

  ‘Better?’ Luca asked sardonically, turning back to the women.

  Rilla and Emily, their lips pressed tightly together, nodded. ‘Better. Nothing worse than a crooked angel,’ Emily said.

  Luca thought the angel looked like it walked the street for eleven months of the year but wisely didn’t say anything.

  ‘Turn the lights on, Luca?’ Emily asked.

  Rilla put her arm around Emily’s shoulders as Luca flicked the switch and the colourful lights flashed on and off, reflecting off the tinsel. A collective sigh escaped their mouths as they stared transfixed at the tree. ‘Now, that’s just gorgeous,’ Emily said, admiring their handiwork.

  ‘It’s going to be great on night duty,’ Rilla agreed. She was pleased she had a few nights rostered between now and Christmas Day.

  The sliding doors interrupted their moment and they turned to see their first customer for the day. A middle-aged man holding a shirt soaked in blood to his head, accompanied by a very harried-looking woman.

  ‘Game on,’ Emily said under her breath. ‘I’ll get his details from the woman.’

  ‘Thanks, Ems,’ Rilla said as she ushered the man into the triage area.

  Rilla was sitting in the staffroom alone, having a late lunch, when Luca tracked her down.

  ‘It’s a bit late for lunch, isn’t it?’ Luca frowned. ‘You need to eat more regularly.’

  Rilla rolled her eyes. At the moment she was a complete slave to the dictates of her stomach. ‘Luca, I’ve snacked all morning, trying to stave off the nausea.’

  He eyed her critically. She’d lost weight the last couple of weeks, her face looked leaner, her wedding ring, restored to its rightful place, was looser, and she’d complained only that morning how she needed a belt to keep her trousers up. But she had colour in her cheeks and was eating with gusto. He’d certainly seen her looking a lot worse.

  ‘Good.’ He opened the lid of his sandwich pack.

  His brief, thorough examination of her made her feel like one of his patients, and she felt distinctly lacking. Her heart had been banging wildly the second he’d breezed into the room and he’d looked her up and down and dismissed her like a very uninteresting lab specimen.

  She had the insane urge to stand up and strip her clothes off. Just to see how he’d react. She knew he wasn’t totally immune to her, she was carrying his child after all. And she saw the way he looked at her sometimes at home when he thought she was busy doing other things. And while she hadn’t deliberately courted his attention, she certainly hadn’t bothered to be modest around him.

  She didn’t see the point. He knew her body intimately. Had seen her naked hundreds of times. And it was December in Australia, for crying out loud—too damn hot to cover up. Her night attire was a short, well-worn T-shirt and knickers. The hem of the T-shirt barely met the top of the pants but she hadn’t bothered with anything more modest.

  When she went to bed she discarded the T-shirt, the breeze from the ceiling fan heavenly against her heated flesh, and it certainly wasn’t something she thought about putting back on again as she dashed to the toilet every morning to lose her stomach contents. Luca had taken to bringing her shirt with him to the bathroom as he checked on her.

  But still she felt as if he only saw her as a vessel for his child, not as a woman any more. He nagged her about eating well and resting and not climbing on chairs but the man who had pushed her against their front door and had his way with her seemed to have gone completely.

  Which she should have welcomed, but she just couldn’t switch her attraction on and off like that. Luca had always had too much sexual power over her and it seemed that seven years of bitter silence hadn’t had any effect on that.

  Maybe that was something else they needed to talk about, establish during the next seven months. The intimacy rules. The rules of engagement, as it were. She seriously doubted, despite Luca’s apparent disinterest, whether they could live together and not cross the line at some stage. Just watching him as he ate was doing funny things to her equilibrium.

  Damn it all, how could he be so…so…indifferent? Being intimate with Luca again after seven years was like a drunk having that first taste of liquor after a long period of sobriety. It was heaven and it was hell and it most definitely left her craving more.

  Maybe they needed to talk about scheduling regular intimacy time. After the baby was born. She knew better than to broach that subject with him. Maybe that way this insane itch she had could be controlled.

  ‘Have you had a chance to talk to Julia yet?’

  It took a few seconds for Rilla to realise that Luca’s lips were moving because he had spoken. She’d been so deep in thought and focused on the way they moved as he ate, nothing else had registered.

  ‘Hmm?’ she asked, desperately trying to clear wanton images from her brain.

  Luca felt heat slam into his groin as she lifted her tawny gaze to him. It shimmered with naked desire. ‘Julia? About the baby.’ He could hear the tremulous note in his voice and saw her pupils dilate a little more.

  ‘Oh, yes. I’ll pop in and see her after my shift finishes.’

  Luca held her gaze. ‘Don’t forget. You’ve had the ultrasound. You agreed.’

  Rilla felt the simmering sexual tension quickly dissipate. The man had a one-track mind and it had absolutely nothing to do with the inferno that had raged between them a second ago. ‘Damn it, Luca. I’m not a child,’ she snapped, scraping her chair back.

  Luca watched her throw her wrappers in the bin and storm out of the staffroom without a backward glance. Dio Santo! He knew that. Her skimpy attire around the house had left him in no doubt she was most definitely, one hundred per cent all woman.

  She forgot her antipathy towards Luca as the department quickly turned into Bedlam central. There seemed to be a vomiting and diarrhoea bug going around and most of the cubicles were filled with patients, from babies through to the elderly, in varying stages of dehydration.

  The heat, combined with the inability to keep anything down, had taken a huge toll on the most vulnerable members of the population. IV fluids and anti-emetics were the order of the day.

  She also dealt with several fractures, a minor head injury, two chest pains, a snakebite and a build-up of ear wax requiring syringing. By the time she left, she’d done three hours’ overtime and was completely exhausted. Her feet ached and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed.

  ‘You finally off?’ Luca asked her as she walked past the central desk, bag over her arm.

  Rilla nodded. ‘And, yes,’ she interrupted him as he opened his mouth, ‘I have spoken to Julia.’

  Luca grinned sheepishly. ‘What’d she say?’

  ‘She was thrilled. We’re going to discuss how to tackle the NUM position over the next few days.’

  Luca wanted to pick her up and swing her round but he noticed the flyaway wisps of hair that had escaped her ponytail and the way she kept shifting from foot to foot. She looked done in and he wanted to gather her close and rub her shoulders.

  ‘You’re tired. I hope you’re going to lie down for a rest when you get home.’

  Rilla rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, sir.’ She gave him a weary salute. ‘Don’t be too late tonight, we’re decorating the tree, remember?’ she said, stifling a yawn.

  Luca nodded. ‘I’ll try but the Bat-phone’s just rung to give us a heads-up about a multi-vehicle accident. I could be a while.’

  Rilla nodded, well used to the demands of Luca’s job. ‘OK. I’ll wait up.’

  ‘Rilla, you’re exhausted,’ Luca protested.

  ‘It’s the first,’ she insisted with a smile. ‘The tree has to go up on the first of December. It’s the rule.’

  Music interrupted their conversation and they followed the sound, making their way out to the main waiting area to discover a school choir singing ‘Joy to the World’. Every year from the first of December to Christmas Day various schools and churches took turns in sending a choir to the General each
evening. The choir would move from ward area to ward area, singing Christmas carols.

  Rilla sighed as she drew up next to Julia, who was leaning on the triage desk. ‘I love Christmas in hospital.’

  ‘Yes,’ Julia agreed. ‘Aren’t these kids great?’

  ‘Superb.’

  They were dressed in long red gowns and carried candles. The Christmas tree twinkled and it couldn’t have been any more perfect if it had snowed. Rilla watched the stressed faces of the waiting public smooth out and their frowns turn into smiles. Even the grizzly children quietened.

  The song drew to a close and the choir began ‘Silent Night’, followed by ‘Ding, Dong, Merrily on High’.

  ‘Where are they from?’ Luca asked.

  ‘St Barnabus’s, I think,’ Julia said, turning her head to acknowledge him briefly.

  They listened to the carol in silence, stirring only when it ended and the choir moved on, applause following in their wake.

  Rilla said her goodbyes again, then went to her old apartment, where she relieved Hailey of all the Christmas decorations she’d inherited after their marriage had broken up. She remembered how magical their first Christmas had been and how she’d gone completely nuts, buying every shiny, sparkly bauble she’d laid eyes on.

  Of course, they’d only been together for three months by that time. And had spent their entire time in bed, loving the season away. But this year was going to be different. This year they would lay the traditions for future Christmases as a family.

  Rilla followed Luca’s orders when she finally got home, so weary all she could think of was sleep. She fell into an exhausted heap on the bed and didn’t wake up for two hours.

  When she rose a familiar queasy sensation sat heavily in her stomach and she dozed on and off for a while until it lifted. Luca wasn’t home yet so she fixed herself a bland snack and put a Bing Crosby CD in the player. He sang about white Christmases in the sultry summer heat and Rilla hummed along. She could almost hear the sleigh bells and feel the snow against her face.

  Trimming the tree at work that morning had infected her with the bug and she decided to make a start on decorating the lounge, leaving the tree for her and Luca to decorate together.

  She strung tinsel around the doorways and windows and across the walls. She erected a pretty Christmas wreath of frosted berries and set up a porcelain nativity scene on top of the bookshelf. She shook the can of fake snow and frosted the windows, then placed electric candles all along the sill.

  By nine o’clock she was feeling proud of her achievements. Between the tinsel and Bing, the room was looking very festive. Luca still wasn’t home as Rilla pieced together the artificial tree. She wasn’t worried. She knew an emergency medicine consultant could work very long hours. But she was impatient to get the tree decorated.

  Luca was in a foul mood when he got home just after eleven. The multi-trauma had kept them busy for hours. Two teenage deaths, despite their best efforts, six criticals and twelve other patients with minor injuries had made for a tough night. The mound of paperwork had compounded the situation.

  He threw his keys on the telephone table in the hall, jerking his tie loose. He could hear the voice of Bing Crosby drifting from the lounge. Was Rilla still up? Damn it! Surely she hadn’t waited up this late? He stalked into the lounge room.

  The lights were out, the room lit only by a small glow coming from the window-sills. Luca took in the room’s transformation dispassionately as his pupils adjusted to the gloom and he laid his eyes on Rilla’s sleeping form sprawled out on the couch.

  She was lying on her back, the leg closest to the edge bent at the knee, her foot touching the ground. The other stretched out straight. Her T-shirt had ridden up, barely covering her breasts. A hand rested carelessly on her stomach. Her midriff was bare and he could just make out her gauzy pink knickers.

  The soft glow bathed her face. Her lips, slackened in slumber, looked inviting. The sexy freckle at the corner of her mouth practically beckoned him. Damn it—no!

  He stumbled towards her. ‘Rilla.’ He leaned forward and shook her shoulder.

  Rilla heard his voice from a distance and smiled. She liked the way his accent made her name sound full and round and sexy.

  Luca saw the small smile cross her full lips. Dio!‘Rilla,’ he said again, giving her a firmer shake.

  ‘What? I’m awake, I’m awake,’ Rilla spluttered, jack-knifing into a sitting position as the tendrils of an elusive dream flowed out of reach.

  ‘Go to bed. That couch will kill your back.’ God knew, he’d had way too much personal experience with it. In the last few weeks of their marriage it had been his bed.

  Rilla smiled up at him. ‘You’re back.’

  Luca felt his heart in his mouth at the look of serene pleasure she gave him. Not sexual pleasure, just plain, unadulterated happy to see you.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed tiredly. ‘It’s late, go to bed.’

  ‘Is it still the first?’ she asked sleepily.

  He smiled, her slow blinking amber eyes mesmerising. ‘Yes, for another fifty minutes.’

  ‘Good.’ Rilla laughed, sleep still dulling her perception. ‘Look at the room, Luca!’ she exclaimed, rising from the couch, still entranced by its magic. ‘Aren’t the candles pretty?’

  Luca should have been looking at the candles. At that moment he was struggling for any distraction from her legs or the way her T-shirt slid enticingly across her chest. Candles were a good option. ‘Very nice,’ he said, still not looking at the candles.

  Rilla was more awake now and despite the subdued light was homing in on his mood. ‘Luca?’

  ‘Rilla, please.’ He was tired. Too tired to resist her sleepy mouth and skimpy clothes.

  ‘It was bad, wasn’t it? The multi-trauma?’

  Luca sighed, knowing his sudden irritability didn’t have a whole lot to do with work but also knowing that telling two sets of parents their teenagers were dead hadn’t helped. ‘Yes, it was bad.’

  He was so still. She knew he’d never liked talking about the tragedies that happened at work but tonight especially, the night they were going to decorate their tree, she couldn’t bear the thought of him hurting.

  ‘I have just the antidote,’ she murmured as she turned on her heel, went into the kitchen and cracked the lid on a long-necked beer.

  She walked back towards him, trying not to be affected by how sexy he looked in the muted light. She stopped a hand’s breadth away from him and pushed the beer at his chest with one hand as she reached up and pulled the loosened knot on his tie with the other, relieving him of it. ‘The tree still needs trimming.’

  Luca took the beer and prayed for restraint. His heart thudded like a drum in his chest. Surely she could hear it? ‘It’s late,’ he protested half-heartedly.

  ‘It’s still the first,’ she insisted quietly.

  Luca took a step back. A step away from her intoxicating presence. In the half-light she was even more desirable. ‘You’re incorrigible,’ he sighed, taking a swig of his beer.

  Rilla clapped her hands gleefully, knowing she’d won. ‘Bah, humbug,’ she said dismissively as she opened the box of decorations.

  Together they decorated the tree. Luca placed the lights first and then they added the bells and the tinsel. Rilla hummed along to Bing while Luca smiled at her as he drank his beer.

  ‘Tell me about Christmas in Italy,’ she said as she handed him one of the two dozen fine glass snowflakes Beth had bought in London when she had lived in England.

  Luca made her smile and laugh with his childhood anecdotes. He mentioned his father quite a bit and Rilla felt it was her best opening to push him a little more. They’d done a lot of talking over the last six weeks but he’d always shied away from his childhood.

  ‘It sounds like you have some pretty good memories of your dad too,’ she said gently.

  Luca didn’t answer straight away, although she could sense his turmoil. She kept hanging ornaments and waiting, hoping
he’d open up.

  When he finally did answer Rilla was startled at his voice. He’d been silent for so long she’d thought maybe he hadn’t heard her.

  ‘My father was…a drifter. A dreamer. Always had some harebrained scheme on the boil. Always traveling around the countryside, trying to sell it to someone, looking for a backer.’

  Rilla heard love, pride and exasperation in equal measure. She’d never met Santo Romano, who had died when Luca had been fifteen, but it was clear that conflicting emotions warred inside Luca.

  ‘He was never home and didn’t really have any kind of regular employment. Money was tight but Mamma…she was determined that we wouldn’t be disadvantaged. She took in laundry and ironing, as well as working in the latteria during the day and my grandfather’s ristorante at night.’

  Rilla could well believe Luca’s mother being the driving force in the family. She had met Maria Romano on their Italian honeymoon, and even in her sixties there’d been a steely determination in the matriarch’s demeanour.

  ‘And still she was there for us all before school, after school, before bed. But she was always exhausted and thin, so thin. No time to eat or look after herself properly. She never said anything but I could see the envy in her eyes when she saw the other mothers in the park with their kids.’

  Rilla could see Luca had gone back to another time in a far-away land and she daren’t say a word for fear he might never talk about it again.

  ‘I heard her and my father arguing once after he’d come back from being away for months. She was saying she just wanted to have time for us to go to the park.’

  Rilla watched Luca rouse himself, raising the bottle to his lips and taking another swallow. He turned to her. ‘I wished we could have gone to the park too.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘Selfish, huh?’

  Rilla’s heart felt heavy and her arms ached to embrace the wounded little boy that lay beneath the strong, capable doctor. She touched his arm. ‘You were a child, Luca.’

  Luca nodded. ‘I don’t want that for you. For my wife. Or for my child.’

  Her entire body bounded with the slow, hard thump of her heart. So this whole going-back-to-work thing was Luca’s desire to look after and provide for her and their baby. To make up for his own father’s shortcomings. To be the man his father hadn’t been. To save her from becoming his mother.