Dr Blake's Angel

by Marion Lennox

  But back at his apartment, his ham and the strawberries looked absolutely pathetic.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Sutherland,’ he muttered to himself as he stared at the plate of ham he’d cut from Ernest’s bone, and he couldn’t help thinking that even Ernest would be having a better Christmas than he was.

  He was being pathetic. This was what he wanted! He opened a bottle of wine, took his ham and carried it into the living room. Here was Nell’s tree, the only thing she’d left for him. His three haemorrhoid angels beamed from the tip, and their smiles mocked him. Fool, they said, and he knew they were right.

  ‘I can’t go.’

  ‘You promised you would if you could.’

  ‘So you were stupid. You’re getting yourself into deep water, Blake Sutherland.’ Heck, he was going barmy here, talking to himself and a bunch of paper angels, but there was no one else to talk to and his need to unburden his soul was overpowering.

  ‘That’s what you want.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘Well, you could just go out to her place and eat. After all, half your geriatric practice is there. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.’

  Maybe.

  Maybe he couldn’t help himself. Maybe he was going mad, but with a groan he put the ham aside. Sensible or not, he was going to share Christmas with Nell.

  Her back was on fire. As the meal continued Nell grew more and more aware of the pain. She’d been trying to ignore it all morning, and while there’d been things to do she’d managed, but now… She’d been on her feet too much, she told herself, and she shouldn’t have carried the pudding. Now she was suffering the consequences.

  Around her, the meal was everything she’d hoped. The food was fantastic and every person there was aching for a good time. With company like this, her party couldn’t help but be a success.

  Oh, but her back hurt.

  Where was Blake?

  He wasn’t coming, she thought as the piles of Moreton Bay bugs and oyster shells were cleared and the turkey was carved—and by the time everyone’s plates were heaped with the magnificent main course she was sure of it.

  No matter. It didn’t matter. These were her people and she didn’t need anyone else. Hadn’t she sworn that when she’d cut up her king-sized quilt?

  It was just…her back hurt so much.

  ‘Are you all right, girl?’ Grace was looking at her with a strange expression on her face. ‘You look…’

  ‘Tired. I’m just a bit tired.’ But the pain was like hot knives. Heck, she must have pulled something when she’d lifted the pudding, and she couldn’t afford to be sick, she thought desperately. It’d spoil her guests’ Christmas. Besides, she’d promised Blake two more weeks of medicine.

  ‘Are you sure?’ There was real concern on Grace’s face, and Nell dredged up a smile.

  ‘I’m fine. Honest.’

  ‘You don’t look fine. You look just how your—’ She bit off her sentence, and if she hadn’t been concentrating on her back Nell would have probed deeper.

  ‘I’ll get the gravy,’ she said, realising the jug was still in the kitchen. It’d give her a blessed couple of minutes away to grimace in private, and maybe she could risk taking a painkiller.

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘No.’ Nell put her hand on Grace’s shoulder to stop her rising and she used the hold to lever herself to her feet. She felt somehow extraordinarily heavy. Extraordinarily…

  No! Realisation came with her first major contraction. Her waters burst right as the knowledge slammed home. She doubled over with pain, and she cried out with the shock of it. And a dozen of Sandy Ridge’s geriatrics were left open-mouthed as their hostess buckled to her knees and stayed there.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BLAKE walked up the verandah steps, wondering what on earth he was doing. His last two Christmases he’d spent alone. He was accustomed to it. It didn’t matter. The celebrations were way out of scale anyway, he thought. Gross commercialisation. He didn’t need it.

  But his legs kept carrying him forward. Nell’s face, disappointed but stoic, was before him. He’d promised. She didn’t think he’d come, he knew, and suddenly he wanted to see her face when he walked into the room. Because he knew it’d light up, and those gorgeous green eyes would smile a welcome and she’d make room for him by…

  He was being a romantic fool! But his step quickened, nevertheless, and by the time the front door was flung wide he was almost running.

  And so was Ethel. She burst out of the front door like a cannonball and when she saw Blake she almost fell into his arms—which was quite something as she weighed twenty stone.

  Blake gasped and caught her—sort of—and she looked at him as though she couldn’t believe he was really there.

  ‘Oh, Dr Sutherland.’ She was so desperate she could hardly get the words out. ‘The phone’s not on here yet, and I was just running next door to phone you.’

  ‘I said I’d come.’ Surely there had been no need for such urgency.

  But it seemed there was. ‘Come quick.’ She hauled herself out of his grasp and grabbed his arm, dragging him into the hall. ‘Quick. Dr McKenzie’s having her baby on the dining-room floor.’

  It wasn’t quite as bad as that.

  By the time he reached her, they’d carried Nell into the main bedroom and laid her on her grandparents’ big bed. Now she lay wide-eyed with fright, gripping Grace’s hand like she was drowning, and when Blake pushed his way through the crowd around the bed she gave a sob of sheer terror and clutched him, too.

  ‘It’s coming. Blake, my baby’s coming, and it can’t. I’m only thirty-four weeks. It’ll die. Blake, stop it. I need a salbutamol drip. I need… Dear God, I don’t know what I need. Oh…’ Her voice tailed into a moan as the next contraction hit.

  ‘Can someone fetch my bag?’ Blake tossed his car keys to where at least eight senior citizens crowded around him. Grace seemed the most competent of the lot of them, and the most concerned. ‘Grace, can you stay?’ He glanced at the sea of elderly faces, each capped with a gay Christmas hat and each looking equally worried and agog. ‘Everyone else, I suggest you finish your Christmas dinner while you wait for news of what’s happening. I’m sure that’s what Dr McKenzie wants.’

  What Dr McKenzie wanted didn’t include a baby, but that was exactly what she was getting. Blake did a swift examination and all it told him was that they were far too late to get her to the hospital. They were too late for anything but delivery.

  ‘How sure are you of your dates?’ he demanded, cutting through Nell’s mist of pain and fear with his curt command.

  Nell caught her breath on a sob and tried to make herself think. ‘I’m…I’m sure.’

  ‘Why are you sure?’

  ‘I dated it from last menstruation.’

  ‘You had a normal period?’

  ‘I don’t know. I guess.’ She was panting with effort, and a sheen of sweat covered her forehead. ‘I must have. It was a period. Richard and I were arguing. Maybe…’

  Maybe if she’d been emotionally upset she wouldn’t have noticed if it had been much lighter than usual!

  ‘You didn’t have an ultrasound.’

  ‘No, I…’ She bit her lip on pain. ‘It was all such a mess. I didn’t.’

  ‘So you’re not absolutely sure.’

  ‘I must be.’ It was a wail. Another contraction rolled through, and Blake winced. They were less than a minute apart—and the head was crowning already!

  ‘OK, Grace, we need lots of hot soapy water and as many towels as you can find. Can you ask Ethel if she can use my car phone to ring the hospital? Tell the nurses what’s happening, ask them to send a midwife and tell them to put the Blairglen neonatal team on standby.’

  In the face of this crisis Grace was swift and incisive, dropping her years like magic. ‘You want them to come at once?’

  ‘The midwife, yes, but the neonatal team, no.’ The Blairglen neonatal team flew anywhere in the district to take premature babi
es back to the city for specialist attention, but… ‘I’m not convinced this is early.’

  ‘It’s early.’ Nell almost yelled. ‘It’s six weeks early. Blake, stop it.’

  ‘If I stop it now you’ll have a baby half in and half out,’ Blake told her, and he grinned. ‘You’ve learned breathing techniques?’

  ‘No. Yes. Ow…’

  ‘Breathe, Nell,’ he told her. ‘Concentrate.’

  ‘I don’t want to concentrate. I don’t want a baby.’

  ‘You know, I’m very sure you do.’ He took her hand, and forced her terrified gaze to meet his. For a moment, mid-contraction, he had her complete attention. ‘Nell, by the look of it you’re having a normal delivery and a normal baby. That’s what you want, isn’t it?’

  ‘I… Yes. Oh, Blake…’

  ‘Then what are we waiting for?’ he asked. ‘To have your baby in your own home, with all your friends… And on Christmas Day to boot.’ He waited until the next contraction came through and his hands held hers all the time, imparting strength.

  ‘OK, Nell,’ he told her softly, but there was still strength behind the words. ‘You have me and you have Grace. And we both love you and won’t let anything happen—to you or your baby. Do you trust us?’

  Her attention was caught. She looked up into his eyes and took a searing breath, and he felt her body relax. He felt the terror dissipate. Resolution came to take its place. ‘Yes…’ It was a breathless whisper but it was enough, and Blake’s smile encompassed her as a great hug might have.

  ‘OK, Dr McKenzie, I believe we’ll try for the full catastrophe. Grace let’s go for it. Nell, I’m afraid the time for talking is past. Shut up and push.’

  ‘Why should I shut up?’ It was a hint of the old Nell, belligerent and bossy. ‘Why should you—?’

  The next contraction hit.

  She shut up and pushed.

  And ten minutes later, before any nurse could arrive and before any more preparations could be made other than boiling water and warming towels, Blake lifted a tiny bundle of baby away from his mother.

  Swiftly he cut the cord, checked the baby and discovered a perfect, near full-term baby boy. For some reason he was close to tears. Why, for heaven’s sake? He’d delivered babies before. But he’d never delivered Nell’s.

  Forcing himself to be practical, he wrapped the infant in a warmed towel and handed him to Grace. After coping with the afterbirth, he washed his hands in some of the gallons of hot water—good grief, the back-up team had boiled enough to bathe an elephant—and then he moved to Nell’s head, gripped her hands and held hard.

  As the baby had cannonballed its way into the world, Nell had slumped back, exhausted beyond belief. Now her eyes had closed. The baby had arrived like a steam train and Nell was bordering on shock. Not many first babies arrived as hard and as fast as this one, and the shock to Nell’s body must be massive.

  He needed to set up a drip. She could use some fluid. But first…

  ‘Nell?’ It was a whisper. He lifted her wrist to find her pulse steady and strong, and he felt better for it. ‘Nell,’ he said again, and this time it was a command.

  She opened her eyes, but they were full of fear. Full of pain. She was bracing herself for the worst. ‘Oh, Blake. Oh, dear God…’ Her voice cracked on a sob. ‘Is it…is my baby dead?’

  ‘Give her the baby, Grace,’ Blake said, and Grace smiled her joy. She came forward, knelt by the bedside and held out the tiny, warmly wrapped bundle for his mother to see.

  ‘Look, Nell,’ Blake ordered softly. ‘See your son.’

  And he was just perfect. He had huge eyes, just like his mother’s, already wide and wondering, and showing not a hint of distress. And he had a mass of burnt red hair—just like Nell’s.

  And just like…Grace’s?

  Grace’s eyes were swimming with tears, and Blake grinned. This felt good. It felt right, and more and more he figured what he suspected was possible.

  ‘He’s a perfect baby boy,’ he told Nell, and he stroked a finger across her cheek to collect a teardrop. ‘Just perfect. Ten fingers. Ten toes. Everything. I’d say he might be a week or two early, but certainly no more. And I’d guess he’s about six pounds. He’s small enough so you haven’t even torn. So…’

  The temptation to stroke her cheek again was irresistible, and he did just that. ‘Perfect,’ he whispered, and maybe he wasn’t just talking about the baby. But somehow he hauled himself back on track. ‘A perfect little boy. What are you going to call him?’

  ‘What…?’ Nell was so dazed she could hardly speak. Grace manoeuvred the bundle into her waiting arms, and Nell held him close and gazed down at her baby in awe. ‘Oh,’ she said on a sigh of discovery. ‘He looks like…’

  ‘He looks like his mother,’ Blake said, and grinned. A perfect birth—a perfect baby—meant doctors were superfluous. He was superfluous. But he didn’t feel superfluous. He felt fantastic! ‘He looks like you. And…’ He cast an odd glance up at Grace, but he was still sure he was right, and more and more this seemed the right time to tell her. ‘And he also looks like your grandmother.’

  ‘My grandmother.’ Nell was exploring every last feature of her little son’s face, and she was awed and wondrous. ‘Oh… You knew my grandmother. But he doesn’t look like her.’ Her brow furrowed, unable to make the connection.

  There wasn’t one. ‘I don’t mean your grandmother who died,’ Blake told her, and it was too much. Hell, both women were close to tears, and here he was ready to join them. He knew this was none of his business but he was going to do it anyway. ‘I mean your living grandmother. The lady who’s just given you your son.’

  ‘My grandmother…’ Nell was so confused that she cuddled her son for about five minutes before speaking again. Grace and Blake were content to wait. And watch. After one startled glance, Grace had opened her mouth and shut it again, leaving it to Nell to figure things out. Finally she thought it through and tried again. ‘Grace…’ Nell’s eyes lifted to the elderly woman by the bed. ‘You mean Grace is my grandmother?’

  ‘I mean Grace, and I’m right, aren’t I, Grace?’ Blake demanded. When the old lady couldn’t speak he drew her to sit on the bed beside him. Grace was weeping openly now, tears forming rivulets down her weather-worn cheeks. ‘Nell, Grace is certainly your grandmother. Your mother loved Grace’s son, Michael. Michael died before they could be married, but you’re the result.’ He smiled and looked down at the wrapped baby in Nell’s arms. ‘So this little boy is Grace’s great-grandson.’

  ‘But…how did…how did you know?’ Grace seemed almost as confused as Nell. Almost as shocked.

  ‘I guessed,’ Blake told her. ‘I knew something had happened to your Mike, and when your husband was dying he told me that Mike had got a girl into trouble. He told me Mike wanted to marry her but the girl’s parents wouldn’t hear of it. They sent the girl away to stay with her aunt and they wouldn’t give Mike her address. She came back, though. When Nell was three months old she returned. Mike would have married her in all honour—even though they were just kids, they were desperately in love, and you both supported him, but he was drowned just before she came back. So Nell’s mother returned to nothing—just her parents’ awful judgement.’

  ‘Oh, Nell…’

  ‘You wanted to keep the baby, but Nell’s parents told you that you’d already destroyed her mother’s life with your kindness. They denied the baby was Mike’s, and they locked you out.’

  ‘We wanted so much…’ It was a thready, broken whisper, but Grace was looking straight at Nell. ‘So much…Nell, your mother was such a lovely girl. Just like you. Laughing. Happy. Despite her awful parents. She was like a daughter to us, so much so that we didn’t realise until too late that she and Mike… I mean, we’d thought of them as almost brother and sister…’

  ‘And you never told Nell.’

  Still Grace was talking to Nell, her voice a shamed whisper. ‘We couldn’t. We knew there’d be a riot if we told you
when you were a child, and then you left. And when you came back I was too ashamed. I should have made a bigger push to keep you. But our loving your mother destroyed her, so we couldn’t do…we couldn’t do the same to you.’

  ‘You don’t destroy someone by loving them.’ Blake couldn’t help himself. His chest had expanded by about six notches and he felt like having a weep himself. ‘Nell, your nether regions are looking great. Your baby’s looking great. Your grandmother’s looking great. How’s that for an instant family? What more do you want?’

  And Nell looked up at him in wonder. So much had happened so fast. He’d given her the world. Her baby. Her grandmother. It was wrong to want more. But…

  ‘I want you,’ she whispered.

  And then, as he stood stupidly by her bedside, she managed a smile, albeit a shaky one.

  ‘I love you, Blake Sutherland,’ she told him, and her voice was sure and strong, a declaration for the world as well as for herself. ‘And I’ll love you for ever.’ She smiled and smiled, her eyes misty with tears of joy, and she held her baby close. ‘You’re right. You don’t destroy someone by loving them. How can you? You can only give and give, and hope and hope. Like I’m hoping now.’

  But, despite her joy, her eyelids were drooping with exhaustion. ‘Go and eat your Christmas dinner,’ she ordered them both. ‘Because my son and I intend to sleep.’

  It was a riot of a Christmas dinner. Blake and Grace emerged to cheers all round and tears and hugs, and you would have thought it was Blake who was the father the way this crazy lot of elderly folk reacted.

  And he didn’t mind at all. He felt… He felt terrific! For some reason he felt like a vast weight had been lifted from his shoulders, a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying.

  ‘I want you.’

  The words drifted over and over in his mind—in his heart—and he barely heard what everyone else was saying.