A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming

by Carolyne Aarsen

  “Maybe you should go away. Take a trip with all that money you’ve got saved up.”

  “I don’t know where I’d want to go. And I don’t feel like traveling alone.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Rachel slipped her arm around her sister’s waist. “I just don’t like seeing you like this, so lost and forlorn.”

  “I’m not forlorn,” Caitlin said with a note of disgust in her voice. “I’m probably more ticked than anything. Going back to him and then breaking up with him.” Caitlin stopped at a driftwood log and lowered herself to the sand, leaning against the log. The September air was quiet, unusually still. A white gull wheeled above them, sending out a shrill, haunting cry. The afternoon sun shimmered on the water. It was as if the entire world had slowed down.

  “You look tired.”

  Caitlin shrugged. She had told her family about spending the night at the hospital, but not why. Sitting at Simon’s bedside seemed quixotic in the harsh light of the day. She came home just before her family came back from church, giving her time to shower and change. It also gave her time for personal devotions, and a chance to question God about the events of the past twenty-four hours.

  “What about going back to work?” Rachel sat down beside her, sifting her hands through the coarse sand, tilting her face to the sun.

  “I would dearly love to, but unfortunately it’s not an option.” Caitlin settled farther down on the log, squinting against the sun to the mountains of the mainland beyond. Mountains as familiar as the wallpaper of her own bedroom. She and Rebecca spent hours here. It was a short bike ride from their parent’s home. In the summer they swam here, on cooler days they walked along the beach, exploring, planning, dreaming. “All the shifts are planned out. Much as I’d love to get back to work, I’d throw a huge monkey wrench in the whole business if I tried to get back into it right now.” She pushed her hand into the sun-warmed sand, reaching down to the cooler layer below.

  “Well, you have to make some plans.”

  Caitlin wrinkled her nose and laid her head back against the log, letting the sun warm her face. “I don’t have to make any plans. I’ve spent three years working around Charles’s schedule, and I think the next week and a half will be a good opportunity for me to figure out my own life.”

  “Have you ever thought about moving out of Mom and Dad’s house?”

  Caitlin squinted across the bay again, looking but not seeing. Right now she didn’t want to make any decision more strenuous than whether she should get up and keep walking or stay leaning against this log while her behind got slowly colder. “I should,” she said. “It’s just too easy at home. Mom takes care of me, and I don’t have to think about anything.”

  “Well, someday you’ll find somebody. Someone you can care for.” Rachel reached over and stroked her shoulder, trying to comfort Caitlin.

  “I suppose I will,” Caitlin said stifling a sigh. She didn’t know if she wanted to invest her emotions in another relationship. It seemed a lot of work for little reward. She pushed herself up, brushing the cool, damp sand off her pants and giving her sister a hand, pulled her up. “I guess I’ll just have to wait for someone to come and sweep me off my feet.”

  “Charles will regret this, you know.”

  Caitlin pursed her lips, nodding absently at her sister’s confident proclamation.

  “I think he was just taking you for granted. He’s probably just afraid of commitment.”

  “He seems pretty committed to his job,” Caitlin said dryly. “And if he can’t give me that same kind of commitment, then I’m really wasting my time.”

  “Maybe breaking up with him will show him that you’re serious. It will be a wake-up call for him.” Rachel smiled at her sister in encouragement. “You just wait. He’ll be calling you by the end of the week, begging you to come back.”

  “We’ve done this break-up-and-begging thing before. I wouldn’t take him, Rachel,” Caitlin said firmly, her hands bunched in the pockets of her jean jacket.

  “What?” Rachel punched her sister on the shoulder. “Of course you would. Charles is such a great guy.”

  Caitlin looked down at some shells, kicking them up and watching them fall. “He may be great, but I don’t know if I’ve had any passionate feelings for him.” She angled a questioning glance at her sister. “Surely that should be part of a relationship.”

  “I still can’t believe you’re saying this.”

  “I can. Amazing what a few different events can do to change your perspective on life.”

  “Like what?”

  Caitlin stopped and turned to face her sister. “Yesterday you told me you were expecting. Yesterday I saw a man almost get killed. I realized how precious life is and how much of mine I’ve wasted waiting to see if Charles could squeeze me into his agenda.”

  “What?” Rachel said, frowning. “What do you mean about a man getting killed? You never said anything about that.”

  Caitlin held her sister’s puzzled gaze and then turned away, walking a little quicker. “It happened after I broke up with Charles. Some guy on a motorbike.” His name is Simon, her inner voice taunted her. You stayed with him, all night. He’s more than “some guy.” “It was pretty traumatic and it shook me up,” she continued, ignoring the insidious thoughts. “He was afraid and wanted me to stay with him. So I did. That’s why I was home so late.”

  “Wow, Caity. That was nice of you.”

  Caitlin was reassured by the tone of her sister’s voice, by her use of an innocuous word like nice. It told her that what she had done was kindness, nothing more. It had nothing to do with emptiness and being needed. Nothing to do with eyes that demanded and a mouth that promised.

  Chapter Four

  “You didn’t tell me Eva was working evenings.” Caitlin pulled a face at the timesheet in front of her. Danielle had called her earlier in the day to offer her the shift for a nurse who’d wanted to take the week off but hadn’t been able to because of Caitlin’s pending vacation with Charles.

  Danielle gave her friend a light punch on the shoulder. “Beggars can’t be choosers, my dear. If it’s any comfort, I’ll be in the last two days of the rotation. We can gossip together.” A light blinked on above the doorway across from the nurse’s station and Danielle looked up with a frown. “There goes that Simon again,” she grumbled. “Had that student nurse, Tina, all in a dither this morning.”

  “Do you want me to go?” Caitlin offered.

  “Sure. Just don’t let him get to you!” warned her friend.

  Caitlin only smiled. “I think I’m okay in that department,” she said as she walked into his room. She knew she wouldn’t be succumbing to any male charms for a while.

  “Took you long enough,” Simon grumbled as she walked to the foot of his bed. As he glanced at her he frowned, then his hazel eyes brightened. “Well, hi there, angel,” he said, a slow smile curving his lips, his gravelly voice softening. “You came back to see me.”

  Caitlin could see how this man could get a young woman flustered. With just a smile, a shifting of his features, he changed from harsh to appealing. “I just came on the ward to see when I’m working again,” she said, walking over to his side. “Danielle’s busy. Did you want some water?” She poured him a cup.

  “You work here?” He shifted as he reached for the cup, his smile disappearing in a grimace of pain.

  “Yes, I do. I’m on vacation now though, but I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Really?” He tried to smile again, but he squeezed his eyes shut and took a few slow breaths, fighting the agony Caitlin knew he must be suffering.

  “Do you want a painkiller?” she asked quietly, taking the cup out of his trembling hands.

  He shook his head once, quickly. “No,” he gasped, “I’m okay.”

  Caitlin watched him battling
the pain, his head pressed back against the pillow, his fists clenched at his sides.

  “You don’t have to suffer like this,” she said, touching his shoulder lightly. “You don’t have to be so tough.”

  Simon took a few more quick breaths, then slowly exhaled, his eyes opening. “Maybe not,” he said with a sigh. “I hate feeling out of control.”

  “Better than feeling like that motorbike landed on you all over again,” Caitlin said dryly, setting the cup down on the table.

  “Maybe,” he whispered, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead.

  “When’s the last time you had something?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to check.”

  He opened his eyes. “You coming back?”

  Caitlin paused. His brusque question held a faint note of entreaty at odds with his character. Their eyes met, held, and for a heartbeat Caitlin felt the same emotion he had created in her the night of his accident.

  He needed her.

  Caitlin forced herself to look away, to break the tenuous connection.

  Don’t be ridiculous, she reprimanded herself as she walked out of the room and over to the desk. He’s just doing what comes naturally. Flirting.

  “So, what did the old bear want now?” Danielle asked, looking up from her paperwork.

  “When was the last time he had a painkiller?”

  Danielle reached over and pulled up Simon’s chart, shaking her head. “If you want to give him something, I wish you luck. He won’t take anything unless he’s just about dead from pain. I’ve been tempted to slip him something in his IV.” She flipped through the papers. “Here. About five hours ago. He’s got to be hurting now.”

  “He is.”

  Danielle nodded. “Dr. Hall changed the order this morning. He’s got him on a stronger medication. I’ll get him something. Maybe between the two of us we can get it in him.” Danielle left and Caitlin walked back to the room.

  Simon lay still, his arms at his sides, his eyes closed.

  “Is that you, angel?” he asked, his voice quiet.

  “It’s Caitlin, not angel.”

  He carefully opened his eyes, zeroing in on her immediately. “When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel, then you saved my life.”

  “I didn’t save your life, either,” Caitlin said matter-

  of-factly.

  “I felt myself slipping away, going down into darkness, I knew I was going....” He stopped, took a deep breath at the effort of talking. “But you pulled me back.” He smiled wanly at her. “How did you do it?”

  Caitlin held his gaze. “I prayed.”

  “Sure.”

  “Your heartbeat was weakening, almost nonexistent,” she replied, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice. “I was praying and then it came back. Simple as that.”

  Simon shook his head, closing his eyes again. “I don’t believe you.” He took another breath and Caitlin could tell from the lines around his mouth he was really hurting.

  Danielle came in the room with a med cup. “Here we are,” she said, handing it to Caitlin. “See if you can get that in him.” She looked back at Simon. “I couldn’t connect with Oscar, Simon. Do you want me to try again?”

  “No,” he replied tightly. “He’s camping. I forgot.”

  “I’m going on a break now, Caitlin. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes to check his dressings.”

  Danielle left and Caitlin set the small paper cup on the bedside table. “Are you going to take this?”

  Simon opened his eyes again. “What are you going to do if I don’t?” he said, forcing a wry smile. “Pray again?”

  “That, and put something in your IV, or give you a needle. Either of those will really knock you out.” Caitlin picked up the med cup and his glass of water. “This is a better alternative.”

  “Isn’t that against my human rights?”

  “Hospitals are not a democracy,” she said shaking her head at his obtuseness.

  “Total dictatorship,” he said with a short laugh. He reached up and took the cup. He tipped the pill into his mouth and then grimaced. “This place sounds like my old foster home.”

  He handed Caitlin the paper cup and lay back again. His comment about foster homes piqued Caitlin’s curiosity. “You know, I never did find out your last name,” she said, pulling up a chair.

  “Read my chart,” he said obliquely. He glanced sidelong at Caitlin. “You settling in for a heart-to-heart chat?”

  “Hardly,” Caitlin said. “Just making sure you didn’t put that pill under your tongue so you can spit it out later. If I sit here long enough it will dissolve.”

  “Do you want me to open my mouth so you can check?”

  “That will be fine.” She watched him a moment, knowing she should leave, but curiously unwilling to.

  “So, where are you from?” she asked, leaning back in the chair, lightly tapping her fingers on the armrests.

  Simon looked away, his hazel eyes narrowing. “Does it matter? Knowing that won’t change anything.” He sounded testy, angry.

  Caitlin stopped tapping and tilted her head to one side, studying him. “It makes you more of an individual. Tells me something about you.”

  Simon curved his mouth into a smile but it lacked the warmth and appeal of the smile he favored her with a few moments. “I’m from nowhere, and I don’t have a family.” The statement was made without emotion, without any attempt to garner pity from the listener.

  “What about Oscar Delaney?”

  “He’s my partner.”

  “You also said something about a foster home....”

  Simon glanced sidelong at Caitlin, his eyes hard. “I think you better go now,” he said firmly.

  Caitlin held his gaze until he looked away. He was breathing quickly, fighting the agony she knew must be coursing through his body, confusing him and making him short-tempered. She got up and carefully pushed the chair back against the wall under the window, feeling slightly frustrated herself and wondering why she should care. “Do you want me to pull the curtains?” she asked, reverting to her role as a nurse and professional.

  He shook his head, his eyes drifting shut again. Caitlin waited a moment, watching as his mouth relaxed, the frown eased from his forehead. The medication was kicking in, she thought. He looked more peaceful now, and Caitlin couldn’t deny his appeal. Wavy hair that fell over his forehead, hiding the cut, high cheekbones, a mouth that could curl up in disdain and yet, now that he was asleep, show a softness she knew he wouldn’t want to show.

  She was still surprised that no one had come to see him, that no one missed him.

  Then again, she wondered why she should care. In spite of his good looks, he was a patient. She was a nurse.

  * * *

  “But I need this information, Mr. Steele.” The young nurse looked down at the clipboard she was carrying.

  Simon looked up at the woman hovering at his bedside, wishing she would go. He hadn’t slept much last night, his leg was throbbing, his arm and the top of his leg felt as if they were on fire and he was tired of feeling woozy from the medication he was on. And now he had an ambitious nurse standing by his bed pumping him for information. He still hadn’t been able to connect with Oscar and he was feeling hemmed in and testy.

  “I want you to leave me alone. You’ve got all the information you need to have. My insurance number, legal name, allergies and previous medical history, as far as I know.”

  “But we need an emergency contact number and...”

  “Look, sweetheart, I already went through an emergency without a contact number. I think you’ll do okay without it now.” He glared at her and this time she took a step backward, her pen still hovering over the clipbo
ard she was carrying.

  “The police need to talk to you about pressing charges.” She bit her lip, running her finger nervously along one side of the clipboard.

  “I’m not pressing charges. I don’t care about the bike. It can be replaced. If they say they want to talk to me, tell them that I’m in a coma, okay?” He stopped, as a fresh wave of pain washed over him.

  “But, sir, that would be lying.”

  Simon took a breath, his anger too easily coming to the surface. “Just go,” he snapped. He closed his eyes. For four days he had been in constant pain. Each time he thought it was getting better, the physiotherapist came and got him moving around and the agony would start all over again.

  He felt the fuzziness of the painkiller slowly overtaking him and he fought it even as he welcomed it. Out of control, he thought, I hate being out of control. He drifted along for timeless moments. Then...

  “Hello, Simon. How are you doing?”

  That voice, he thought, forcing his eyes open.

  Caitlin stood beside the bed, a stethoscope clipped around her neck. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, enhancing the delicate line of her chin, her narrow nose, eyebrows that winged upward from soft green eyes. He wished he didn’t hurt so much. He wished he had the strength to reach up, pull her close to him and kiss that gently curving mouth.

  But all he could do was lie immobile with metal and screws holding his leg together and some kind of wrap covering it. A cripple. It wasn’t fair, he thought.

  She unrolled a blood pressure cuff and gently raised his good arm, slipping it around. Her hands were cool, her touch careful.

  “Hi, yourself, angel,” he said slowly. “You working now?”

  “Yes. I’ll be taking care of you for the next twelve hours.” She pressurized the cuff and she slipped the stethoscope in her ears.

  “Sounds like a wonderful twelve hours.”

  She only set the stethoscope on his arm and listened. When she was done she pulled the cuff off, rolled it up and tucked it behind the fixture on the wall. She was all aloof efficiency and order and it bugged Simon more than he liked to admit.