Christmas at Jimmie's Children's Unit

by Meredith Webber

  She’d made a joke of it, but underneath her light-hearted confession, Angus sensed a deeper emotion and wondered if this was a stock answer she gave to fend off further questions. It must have some basis in truth, so what had happened when she was eleven?

  And why was he wondering?

  Then she added, ‘Maybe,’ and the word had such sad undertones he wanted to hug her—a comforting hug, nothing more, but not something he made a habit of doing with colleagues.

  It was strange that the man’s questions had Kate coming out with something she’d never told a soul, not even her best friend. And while it was true it had been an ambition since childhood, she’d blurted it out it because the pang she always felt when the question of children arose had surprised her today with its intensity.

  Had he fallen for the grandmother excuse? Who would? A diversion—that’s what she needed.

  ‘There’s a coffee shop here that does good coffee and great friands, a sort of pastry. Let’s fortify ourselves for the shopping trip.’

  She waved her hand in the direction of the coffee shop, then realised half the hospital could be taking a break there. Walking in with a man who’d immediately be established in the hospital’s top-ten most handsome could give rise to the kind of gossip she hated.

  ‘No, a better idea would be to show you the best little eating place around here. The breakfast crowd will have gone and the morning coffee crowd not arrived. It’s a bit of a walk but through a nice park. Come on.’

  What was she doing? It had to be more than strangeness in her stomach from mouldy bread that had her confessing her grandmother obsession to the man one minute, then asking him to Scoozi for coffee the next.

  Someone in the hospital coffee shop she didn’t want to see? Angus wondered, but he followed her out of the hospital, across a road and into the big park that stretched away for what seemed like miles.

  ‘I’ve a hospital house down that road,’ he said, pointing across the intersection where solid, old, two- and three-storeyed houses lined a tree-shaded street. ‘My house is opposite a park. Is this the same park?’

  His guide turned towards him, a frown on her face—a face which, unlike his mother’s porcelain figurines, showed every emotion.

  Right now it was a picture of dismayed disbelief.

  ‘You’re living in one of the hospital houses?’

  Unable to see why it should worry her, he nodded.

  ‘I gather it’s the one Maggie and Phil left,’ he explained. ‘It’s actually two flats which is perfect for me as Juanita, my housekeeper-nanny, likes her own accommodation. She says she’s not my wife or mother and is entitled to her own space.’

  He can’t be living in Maggie and Phil’s place! The wailing words raced through Kate’s brain, but she knew someone was—she’d seen a removal van there yesterday and wondered who could afford to pay for one on a Sunday.

  She could move! It didn’t matter that she’d decided she had to face her ghosts. She could do that next year, or the year after. She’d had good tenants in the house before, and the renovations she wanted to do could wait.

  Except that she’d already stripped the wallpaper off most of the living room walls—

  ‘Are you all right?’

  The last word, with its rolled r only made her mad, panicky reaction worse, but she steeled herself to calm down. It was the man’s accent, that was all, the deep Scottish voice would make anyone shiver.

  That and the shadows in his dark eyes.

  ‘I was thinking of coincidences,’ she said, aware of the lameness of this excuse. ‘I live next door.’

  ‘Next door towards the hospital?’ His eyebrows rose as he asked the question, and there was a puzzled look on his face, much like the one he’d worn when he’d asked her about her marital status—puzzled and a bit amused at the same time, though once again his eyes weren’t smiling.

  ‘Next door the other way,’ she corrected, then before he could make some polite remark about the state of her overgrown garden or the junk from the living room she’d been depositing in the front yard, she added, ‘It was my family home but it’s been rented out for the past few years. I’m doing a bit of renovating now that I’ve moved back in.’

  She didn’t add, With the ghosts, although that was how it felt—just herself and the lonely ghosts in a house made for families, a house that should ring with children’s laughter. Her mind flashed back to that day when she was eleven, staying with her friend Beth and visiting Beth’s grandmother’s house for the seemingly old lady’s sixtieth birthday. That house had been filled with laughter while the children, all related in some way—connected and secure in the connections—had dashed around like restless puppies. This is a family, Kate had realised. This is what I want!

  She shut the door on that memory, and fast-forwarded to years later and her adamant refusal to have a termination when Brian had suggested it. The baby would have been her family—would have been. She continued on her way. By now they were halfway across the corner of the park, and a short detour to the right took them to the road opposite Scoozi.

  ‘That’s the café,’ she said, pointing to a place that had seen so much drama played out among hospital personnel, the walls were probably impregnated with emotion.

  In order to avoid any further asinine confessions, once they had coffee and carrot cake, which happened to be the cake of the day, in front of them, Kate introduced work topics, asking him why TGAs had become something of a specialty with him.

  Serious, dark brown eyes studied her across the table and for a moment she thought he might not answer her question, but apparently he was only mustering his thoughts—not coming out with the first thing that came into his head, as she was wont to do!

  ‘My first operation—the first I did as lead surgeon in a team—was a TGA and things went wrong. The coronary arteries were twisted around the heart, one of them going through the heart walls, and although we got there in the end, it was enough to make me realise that TGAs weren’t the piece of cake I’d been considering them.’

  Kate nodded, picturing the subdued panic in the theatre as the team fought to sort out the problems that tiny heart would have presented.

  ‘So you made a speciality of them?’

  He smiled at her, a slow, lazy smile that made her stomach flip. Mouldy bread or something far more serious?

  ‘Well, I did a lot more study into previous TGA cases and the complications the team could encounter during the operation, and tried to work out the best way of handling them.’

  ‘Including coping with coronary arteries that wound through the heart wall?’ Kate teased, unable to stop herself smiling at this stranger.

  Not that he’d be a stranger for long, because they were neighbours, as well as colleagues. The thought caused another quiver in her abdomen, although she knew they’d only be friends. A man as good-looking as Angus McDowell could have his pick of women—should he want a woman—and scraggly redheads were unlikely to be on the top of his list.

  ‘Including—in fact, especially—that,’ he was saying. ‘Now, you’re doing me a favour, showing me around, so I’ll pay for our coffee.’

  He stood and walked towards the till, leaving Kate wondering what she’d said that had caused such an abrupt departure.

  And such a shift in mood, which had been becoming, well, neighbourly!

  Angus knew he’d spoken curtly, not to mention practically knocking over his chair in his haste to get away from the table, but the redhead’s smile—talking about coronary arteries of all things—had caused a physical reaction in his body, one he hadn’t felt in a long time, and didn’t want to dwell on now.

  Jet lag might explain it.

  Or concern about Hamish’s rash.

  Hamish…

  Better to think about Kate’s smile than the little boy he loved but knew he wasn’t bonding with the way he should—the little boy who was the image of his mother…

  He paid for the coffees, but thinking of Kate’s
smile had him wondering if he could politely ask directions to the supermarket so they could part company and he could sort out what was happening to him.

  Hardly!

  Nor was he going to be able to avoid her in the future, given they’d be working on the same team—working closely.

  Kate took him to the local shopping mall, within walking distance, and pointed out the best places to shop for meat and fruit.

  ‘Stupid of me not to have thought of getting the car before we came here. Do you have a car?’ Although she needed to shop herself—fresh bread for one thing—she was too eager to get out of his company to do it now, so added quickly, ‘All the shops deliver, or you could get a cab. Will you be all right?’

  Angus was forced to look at her now, although since the smile he’d been avoiding eye contact. The neat-fetured face was turned towards him and it seemed to him there was a shadow of anxiety in her pale green eyes.

  For him?

  Surely not! He was a grown man and quite capable of shopping and getting a cab home.

  But it could hardly be for herself.

  ‘Thank you, yes, of course I’ll manage,’ he responded, but at the same time, contrary now, he wished she’d stay—shop with him, share the cab, maybe come in and meet Hamish and Juanita—neighbourly…

  ‘Stop kidding yourself,’ he muttered under his breath when, goodbyes said, he was striding down the refrigerator aisle in the supermarket. ‘One silly little smile across a coffee table and suddenly you’re attracted to the woman!’

  Not that anything could happen! It was Sod’s Law once again. The one woman in the world he’d felt a physical response to in four years and she wanted children.

  Well, she wanted to be a grandmother…

  Why?

  He recalled a depth of emotion in her voice and guessed the grandmother thing might be a cover for something else.

  He shoved yoghurt and butter into his trolley, then had to go back for cheese, knowing it wasn’t quite true about the physical attraction. There’d been a couple of women but nothing serious, nothing he’d wanted to pursue.

  So maybe an affair with this woman…

  What was he thinking! He’d barely met her, didn’t know her at all, and just because she looked like one of his mother’s figurines, it didn’t mean he had to go loopy over her. Besides, there were a whole raft of reasons why he shouldn’t get involved. The effect it would have on his relationship—what there was of it—with Hamish for one. Two, she was a colleague. And three, well, he wasn’t certain about three, although he knew there must be a three—didn’t things always come in threes…?

  Having worked the previous weekend, Kate had what was left of Monday off, but given the proximity of their houses and not wanting to run into Angus McDowell again, she chose instead to go back to work. There was always book work to be done, and reports to write up—work she was usually happy to ignore until the last possible moment.

  It was almost dusk when she finally walked down the road to her house, dawdling until she reached the place where Angus McDowell now lived, then hurrying, looking busy, in case he happened to see her. But once past the boundary fence, she paused and surveyed the mess in her front yard. She should have hired a skip before she began moving the old furniture. She could have thrown things straight into it.

  ‘It’s a terrible mess.’ The young, accusatory voice came from somewhere behind an old yellow sofa and the rolled r‘s told her it must be the four-year-old from next door.

  ‘It is indeed,’ she agreed, walking towards the sofa and peering over the back to see the little boy with wide blue eyes beneath a tousled thatch of white-blond hair, crouched there, a tunnel through the hedge behind him revealing his access from the neighbouring yard. ‘Does your dad know you’re here?’

  ‘He’s out…’ It sounded like ‘oot’ to Kate, who had to smile, though if the child had been living in the U.S., surely his accent should be American rather than Scottish.

  ‘And Juanita told me to get out from under her feet,’ the small explorer finished. ‘I was looking for an adventure. Me and McTavish—he’s my dog but right now he’s quantined—we like adventures.’

  Kate nodded. She’d liked adventures herself when she’d been four. Unexpected pain hit her as memories of Susie’s death flashed before her eyes. They’d shifted to this house soon after and here the family had fallen apart…

  ‘Adventures can be fun but you need to be careful where you have them,’ she told him. ‘Perhaps you and McTavish, when he’s back with you, should have your adventures in my backyard. Come on, I’ll show you.’

  She opened the side gate and led the way around her house, pushing through the branching arms of the untrimmed camellia hedge, to where the bushes grew even more thickly in the backyard, although there were patches of rather dry lawn here and there.

  ‘See, you can come through the hedge here—’ she pointed out another little tunnel ‘—and play safely. With the gate shut, McTavish won’t be able to run on the road.’

  ‘Hamish!’

  The thunderous roar startled both of them, but Kate was first to respond.

  ‘He’s here, in my backyard. You won’t fit through the tunnel so you’ll have to come around the side.’

  There was some muttering from the other side of the hedge, then the sound of next door’s side gate opening.

  Hamish, meanwhile, had read the situation well and disappeared through the hole in the hedge, back into his own yard and was even now calling out to Juanita, so when a scowling Angus McDowell appeared, Kate was the only one in his sights.

  ‘Didn’t you think to check that someone knew where he was?’ he demanded. ‘Surely if you’ve been involved with the childcare centre you’ve some notion of children’s behaviour! We’re going demented in there, looking for him and you’re here chatting to him in your own backyard.’

  There was more than anger in his eyes, there was fear, as well, but his tone had tightened Kate’s nerves and she was in no mood to be conciliatory.

  ‘Well, I’d hardly be chatting to him in your backyard, now would I?’ she demanded. ‘You were “oot,” he told me, and Juanita sent him to play. As it happens, I found him in my front yard, and because there’s only a low brick fence that a crawling infant could get over, and a front gate that doesn’t shut properly, I brought him around the back to suggest if he goes adventuring he should use the backyard.’

  She considered setting her hands on her hips and giving him a good glare but the shadows she saw again in his eyes had killed her anger. This man had suffered pain. Was still suffering it? Was his move to Australia part of a healing process?

  It’s none of your business, her head warned, but having known pain—strong emotional pain—she couldn’t help but wonder.

  ‘Adventures! It’s all he thinks about,’ Angus muttered, still angry in the aftermath of anxiety but not seething any more. ‘Some fool gave him a book that has a story about a boy and his dog that go on adventures and he’s been mad for them ever since.’

  He looked at the woman he’d been yelling at only minutes earlier and caught a hint of a smile she’d tried to hide.

  ‘It isn’t funny,’ he snapped, not sure it was the smile or his reaction to it that had riled him.

  She looked up at him, really smiling this time.

  ‘It’s a little bit funny,’ she pointed out. ‘Four years old and he’s trespassing on my property and telling me it’s a terrible mess. I’m sorry I didn’t call out to Juanita to tell her he was with me, but it was a matter of a minute or two to show him the backyard where I knew he’d be safe. Take a look—could you get a better place for an adventure? And wouldn’t you be more worried about him if he wasn’t off having adventures? If he did nothing but sit around in front of the television all day?’

  Angus sighed. Of course he’d be worried if Hamish wasn’t always pushing himself to see more, do more, learn more. But did he want to admit it to this woman?

  ‘I guess so,’ he said
, although reluctantly, ‘and I know he misses the dog. Apparently we can visit him in quarantine but I haven’t sorted out a vehicle yet so can’t get to the quarantine station.’

  ‘Well, that’s easily fixed,’ his neighbour replied. ‘I’m on call at the weekend, so feel free to take my car. I’ve got a sat nav you can use so you won’t get lost.’

  Angus stared at her. Every cell in his body told him not to get more involved with this woman, but she wasn’t inviting him to dinner, nor showing any signs she felt the slightest interest in him as a man; she was simply being neighbourly.

  So why was he so hesitant to accept her offer?

  ‘Or not,’ she added with a shrug that showed little concern over his rudeness in not replying. ‘Now, I’ve got to get inside, I’ve some stripping to do.’

  Stripping?

  It had to be jet lag that had his imagination working overtime, seeing that slight body slowly revealed as she eased off her clothes!

  She started towards the back of the house, pausing to remove a key from under a lichen-covered Buddha, then as she straightened she turned back towards where he still stood, puzzled and disturbed, in her backyard.

  ‘I’ve just remembered,’ she said, ‘there’s a gate down the back between the two properties. Dad let the hedge grow over it when the house you’re in was sold for rentals years ago, but if you hack away at the hedge and free the gate, Juanita will be able to get in here more easily if she needs to find the adventurers.’

  ‘That’s the first place burglars would look for a spare key,’ he muttered, ignoring her advice about gates and hedges but finally getting his legs to work and moving towards her rather than the side gate.

  Now she laughed.

  ‘No way. They look under the doormat first, then under the flowerpots—look at all of them.’ She waved her hands towards the mass of flowerpots clustered on mossy paving stones around the back door.

  Angus did look. Looking at pot plants was infinitely preferable to the mental image lingering unwanted in his head.