A Mommy to Make Christmas

by Susanne Hampton

  ‘I’m taking your expression to be a yes,’ Heath commented.

  ‘Well, a yes to my mother—but my father was supportive from the get-go,’ she said, putting the glass down on the table.

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘He knew I needed a break from Washington and he wanted to help.’

  ‘But your mother didn’t think you needed a break?’

  ‘Hardly...’ she lamented. ‘She wanted me to stay and work it out.’ Phoebe instantly realised that she had said too much, but the words were already out.

  ‘Work what out?’ he asked, leaning forward in the chair with a perplexed look on his face.

  ‘Oh, just things... You know—things that she thought needed to be worked through and I thought needed to be walked away from.’

  ‘No, I can’t say I do know what you mean, Phoebe.’

  She sighed. She knew she had to elaborate, but she had no intention of going into all of the detail. ‘Relationship issues. Some of those just can’t be sorted out.’

  ‘With another family member?’

  ‘No, thank God—he never made it into the family.’

  ‘Ah...so an issue with a man, then?’

  ‘Yes, with a man.’

  ‘So you ran away to the colonies of Australia to get away from a man?”

  ‘Uh-huh...’ she mumbled, and then, looking at the question dressing his very handsome face, she continued, ‘Now you know everything there is to know about me, it’s your turn. What is Heath Rollins’s story? Have you ever run away from anything?’

  As she said it she wanted to kick herself. She knew his story, and it was a sad one that begged not to be retold. He had lost both his mother and his wife. And Phoebe suddenly felt like the most insensitive woman in the world to be asking that question.

  ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Please ignore me.’

  Heath considered her expression for a moment. There was sadness in her face, almost pity. ‘You know about my wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, you know I did run away from something, then. From overwhelming grief and a gaping hole so big that I never thought it would heal.’

  She closed her eyes for a moment. ‘I can’t begin to know what that feels like.’

  He sat back in his chair again in silence, with memories rushing to the fore. ‘Did my father let you know or was it Tilly?’ His voice was calm—not accusing, but sombre.

  ‘Neither,’ she answered honestly. ‘It was Oscar. He told me the other day, when we were in the garden at Tilly’s. He said that he was very little when his mother died and doesn’t remember anything. I assume he must have been a toddler.’

  Heath was surprised that Oscar had opened up about it to Phoebe. He rarely spoke of his mother, and particularly not to anyone he didn’t really know.

  ‘He was five months old, actually—when Natasha died. He never had the chance to know his mother. To walk beside her or even to hold her hand.’

  ‘Oh...I don’t know what to say except that I’m so sorry, Heath.’ As she sat on the chair next to him she felt her heart breaking for him. ‘After a loss as devastating as that it must have been so hard for you to even begin to find your way through the grief and cope for the sake of your son.’

  ‘It was hard for all of us, watching her die. Knowing there was nothing we could do. It was the hardest time of my life and I was powerless to stop it. I felt guilty for allowing it to happen, for not making her have treatment earlier.’

  Phoebe didn’t ask what had taken his wife’s life. It wasn’t for her to know. But she could see he was still wearing the guilt. ‘You can’t make a person do what you want if it’s not their wish. They have to do what is right for them, even if it’s not what we see as right. I’m sure she had her reasons for not starting treatment.’

  ‘Yes—Oscar was the reason. She was twenty weeks pregnant when Stage Three breast cancer was diagnosed, and although she could have safely undergone modified chemotherapy during the pregnancy she refused. She wanted to wait until she had given birth, then start the treatment but with the hormones surging through her body she understood there was a chance it would spread. But it was a risk she wanted to take. In my mind, with the oncologist’s advice, it was one she never needed to even consider. They took Oscar four weeks early, but the cancer had already metastasised. She underwent surgery and chemo but she knew it was useless. She had done her research and was aware that there was little chance of her surviving.’

  ‘What an amazingly selfless woman.’

  ‘More than you can know. But at the time I was angry with her, for leaving me with a baby to raise and no wife to love.’

  Phoebe watched Heath wringing his hands in frustration.

  ‘I can understand your feelings, but I guess I can also understand your wife had a right to do what she thought was best. Sometimes what two people in love want is not the same, and it’s not that either is wrong, or not respecting the other, it’s just that they see things differently. Their life experience and values alter their perspective. And she was a mother. I can’t say it from any experience, since I have never had a child, but I am sure carrying a baby would change everything about how you see the world.’

  ‘But she was so young, and she had so much to live for—no matter how I try I will never understand. I love Oscar so much, and I’m grateful every day for him being in my life, but it was a huge and difficult choice she had to make. And I feel guilty for what happened because it means Oscar is growing up without a mother.’

  Phoebe was puzzled at his feelings of remorse. She understood the sadness, but not the guilt. ‘I don’t know why you would say that. Your wife made the decision—not you.’

  ‘But I should have made her have the chemo. I should have never let her delay it. And perhaps I shouldn’t have married her so young. If she hadn’t married me then she wouldn’t have rushed into having a child, and when she was diagnosed she would have gone ahead with treatment.’

  ‘Heath, you can’t know that for sure. Natasha might not have been diagnosed until it was too late anyway. A young woman in her twenties wouldn’t have been having mammograms, so it might have gone undetected for a long time—by which time she might have faced the same fate. It’s something you will never know. But you have a very special little boy. And you can’t harbour any blame—it’s not good for Oscar.’

  Heath nodded, but Phoebe could see his thoughts were somewhere else, struggling with his memories.

  He was thinking back to the day Natasha had died.

  It had been Christmas Day.

  * * *

  The next day Phoebe woke early, still thinking about everything that Heath had told her. While the heartbreak Giles had inflicted on her had been soul-destroying at the time, she knew now that it had been for the best. But nothing about Heath’s heartbreak was for the best. His wife had died and left behind a little boy who would never know her. And a man who couldn’t fully understand or accept her reasons.

  She felt a little homesick for the first time, and called her father.

  ‘I assisted in surgery last week, and I’m heading in today to the practice, and then tomorrow I’m in Theatre again,’ she told him as she ate her muesli and fruit breakfast with her mobile phone on speaker. ‘And I finally met Ken Rollins.’

  ‘That’s great. I bet you quizzed him about his papers.’

  ‘I did and he was so generous with his knowledge.’

  ‘How long will his son be filling in before he leaves and heads back to his old position?’

  Phoebe’s mood suddenly and unexpectedly fell as she listened to her father and was reminded that Heath and Oscar were only transient in her life. She had enjoyed spending time with Heath out of work hours. No matter how much she was looking forward to working with Ken, she knew she would miss Heath.
He was charming company when he lifted his guard, and he had managed to make her feel important with the way he listened to her and engaged in their conversations.

  He was a far cry from the distracted man who had once held the title of her fiancé. And she suddenly felt a little sad that Heath would be gone in a few short weeks. She knew she wanted more. What that was, she wasn’t sure—but she knew even after such a short time there would be a void in her life when he left.

  ‘Um...I’m not sure, exactly,’ she muttered, trying not to think about exactly how much she would miss him as she washed her bowl and spoon and put them in the dish drainer. ‘I think another four weeks, unless Ken’s recovery takes longer.’

  Phoebe realised she wouldn’t be disappointed in any way if the older Dr Rollins chose to recuperate at home for a little longer than originally planned. She would be more than agreeable to holding down the fort with his son. In fact she knew it was something she wanted very much.

  But that was in the hands of the universe and Ken’s doctor.

  ‘Well, I miss you, honey, and so does your mother.’

  ‘Miss you too, Dad. How is Mom?’

  ‘Rushing about, keeping herself busy with her charity work as always.’

  ‘Maybe you could both head over for a short vacation in sunny Australia in a few months? By then I will know my way around and I can be your tour guide.’

  ‘That sounds like a wonderful idea—but don’t book any accommodation for us yet. With the presidential election only eleven months away I can’t see sleep on my agenda, let alone a vacation any time soon.’

  ‘Of course—how silly of me. I guess I was caught up with my life here and I forgot about everything happening back in Washington.’

  ‘And that’s a good thing. I’m proud of you, honey, and you deserve this time away. Just don’t come home with an Australian drawl or I’ll need to hire an interpreter!’

  He laughed, then said goodbye, promising to call again that week, and left Phoebe free to get ready for work.

  * * *

  The morning was filled with a few post-operative checks and one new patient.

  Phoebe loved working with Tilly. She was funny and sweet and made the workplace even more enjoyable. And she made her feel almost like part of the family.

  She just wished that there was a way she could make Heath feel whole again. But she doubted it. And she had limited time. His guilt was not allowing him to move on. Perhaps it also framed his rules. For those rules would protect him from getting too close to a woman again.

  ‘Evan Jones?’ she called, to the man she assumed was her next patient.

  ‘That’d be me.’

  The man in his early thirties stood, and with a strained expression on his suntanned face, using crutches, he crossed the room to Phoebe.

  ‘We can take it slowly,’ she said as they walked the short distance to her consulting room.

  As she passed Heath’s room she felt compelled to look, even though she knew he wasn’t there. He hadn’t been in all day. He had ward rounds at the hospital, then a short surgical roster to keep him occupied at the Eastern Memorial. She missed seeing his face, and wanted to believe that their current working arrangement could remain in place for a longer time.

  Heath was everything she wanted in a colleague, a mentor and a friend. And perhaps even a lover, her body told her, before she quickly brought herself back to the task at hand. She should not be thinking about anything other than work. And definitely not thinking about Heath Rollins.

  ‘Is that an American accent?’ the man asked.

  ‘Yes, East Coast,’ she told him. ‘Washington DC to be precise.’

  He hobbled to the chair and rested his crutches against the nearby wall as Phoebe closed the door behind him. His patient notes told her that he was thirty-three years of age, a smoker and had suffered a heel fracture as a result of a fall from a balcony at a party. Without wanting to pass judgement, she couldn’t help but wonder if alcohol had been a catalyst for the injury.

  ‘So, Evan, your referring doctor has noted that the fall took place one week ago and that the CT scan she requested has confirmed you have a fractured calcaneus—or, more simply put, a broken heel bone.’

  ‘Yes, my doc said that I smashed it when I fell from Bazza’s ledge at ’is bucks’ night.’

  ‘It must have been quite the party. When’s the wedding?’

  ‘In two weeks. We’ve been like best mates for ever, and I’m meant to be ’is best man, but I’m gonna give it a miss ’cos I can’t get across the sand for the wedding. It’s on the beach at Noarlunga. That’s what ’is missus wants. So I gotta just watch from the road.’

  Phoebe nodded. She had no idea where Noarlunga was, and she was struggling a little with his heavy accent and wasn’t too sure she had understood everything, but she knew she would be able to clarify the details during her examination. What she did know for a fact was that a best man on crutches, sinking into the sand, would not auger well for a romantic beach wedding, so she silently agreed with the bride’s decision.

  ‘Well, let me look at your injury and see if I can at least get you mobile enough to be in the audience—even if it is standing on the side of the road.’

  Phoebe slipped the X-rays and the CT scan on the illuminated viewer, switched it on and then donned a pair of disposable gloves while she studied the films. The specific nature of the injury was leading her to concur with the referring doctor that surgery would be Evan’s best option.

  Kneeling down, she removed his moon boot and began to assess the damage done to his foot during the fall. ‘I will chat to you in a moment, Evan, about our options to restore function and minimise pain.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m throwing back painkillers like I got shares in the company.’

  ‘We don’t want you to be doing that for any extended period, so let’s find a solution,’ she replied as she gently elevated his foot. ‘Does that hurt?’

  ‘Nah—but I just tossed back a couple of strong ones about ten minutes ago, so ya could probably remove me kidney and I wouldn’t feel a thing.’

  Phoebe smiled. She still hadn’t caught everything, but understood enough to see the humour in his remark. Evan’s was the thickest Australian accent she had ever heard, and she guessed he was a not a city dweller. Well, at least had not always been a city dweller.

  ‘Did you grow up in Adelaide, Evan?’

  ‘Nah, I’m from up north. Grew up just outta Woomera, on a sheep station.’

  ‘I’m guessing that would have been pretty dry and hot. Does it get hotter up there than here?’

  Evan laughed. ‘This isn’t hot, Doc. Hot’s when it’s fifty in the shade—or, as you folks would say, about a hundred and twenty degrees.’

  ‘Oh, my goodness. I can’t imagine being that hot. I think I would die.’

  ‘Plenty do, if they’re not bush-savvy,’ he replied with a grin. Then, as she lowered his foot to the ground, he grunted with the pain. ‘That did hurt a bit.’

  ‘I apologise, but I just had to check if the skin on your heel is wrinkled—this tells me the swelling has subsided sufficiently to proceed with surgery.’

  ‘No worries. So I’m good to go out there and make a time for the surgery, then?’

  ‘Not so quickly, Evan...’ Phoebe removed her gloves and disposed of them in the bin before she took a seat and began reading the referral notes, along with the patient details he had completed for Tilly. ‘At your age, and with the extent of the damage that is indicated on the X-rays, I think you’re a good candidate for surgery, but I can see here that you wrote down that you’re a smoker.’

  ‘Yep, but I can hold off before the surgery, and even a few hours afterwards. I’ve cut back heaps on ’em lately. What with the cost and all, it’s sendin’ me broke.’

  ‘Actually, Eva
n,’ Phoebe continued, looking directly at him with a serious expression on her face, ‘you have to quit. Cold turkey, with no soft lead-in time, if we’re to complete this in time for you to even be up and around to view the wedding from the side of the road.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because smoking is harmful for wound and fracture-healing. I won’t, in good conscience as a surgeon, consider you for surgery unless you stop smoking today.’

  ‘That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?’

  ‘Unfortunately, Evan, I can’t be gentle if you want me to operate and not compromise your health further. I need your vascular system at its peak to ensure the best results.’

  ‘So say I give up—and I’m just puttin’ it out there...not sayin’ yet that I will give up—but say I do, when will you be operatin’ and whatcha gonna do to me foot?’

  ‘I could schedule the operation for approximately ten days from today. The procedure involves cutting through the skin to put the bone back together and using plates and screws to hold the alignment. It’s called an open procedure and it involves an incision over the heel. The incision can be likened to a hockey stick, or a large L, where the overlying nerve and tendons are moved out of the way. The fracture fragments are restored to the best possible position. Then I will place a plate and screws to hold the fracture in place.’

  Evan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘Makes me shiver all ovah. So I’ll be right under while ya doin’ it?’

  ‘If you mean under general anaesthesia—yes. You will be in hospital and asleep during surgery. We will also use a regional nerve block, which involves a local injection to help with pain control. This block will provide between twelve and twenty-four hours of pain control after surgery. Surgery can be a same-day procedure, or planned with a hospital stay.’

  ‘So will I have a moon boot again afterwards?’

  ‘Post-surgical dressings and a splint or cast will be applied, and you won’t be able to put weight on your foot for at least six to eight weeks, until there is sufficient healing of the fracture. The foot will remain very stiff, and some permanent loss of motion should be expected. Most patients have at least some residual pain, despite complete healing. And, Evan, almost everyone who sustains a break of the calcaneus, or heel, particularly involving the joint, should expect to develop some arthritis. If arthritis pain and dysfunction of the foot become severe, then further surgery may be required. These fractures can be life-changing.’