New Doc in Town / Orphan Under the Christmas Tree

by Meredith Webber

  Lauren couldn’t help it. She began to laugh and soon all those who’d seen the fun were laughing with her, even Tom and the handler. Everyone but Bobby, who came and put his arms around Lauren’s waist, whispering desperately, ‘It really wasn’t my fault!’

  She hugged him hard—he was so good to hug.

  ‘Of course it wasn’t,’ she assured him.

  ‘Tom won’t be angry?’

  ‘Tom? No, he’s laughing too.’

  The second reassurance worked, for now Bobby smiled.

  ‘It was funny seeing Tom bouncing up and down on the camel as it ran across the paddock,’ the child admitted, making Lauren eye him just a little suspiciously. But even a little devil like Bobby couldn’t have engineered the bolting camel.

  Could he?

  ‘Of course not, it was a pure accident,’ Tom told her when he’d been rescued from the camel and Bobby was enjoying a ride on a small Ferris wheel.

  ‘I thought so,’ Lauren responded, then she turned to Tom. ‘He’s so insecure,’ she said, ‘so in need or reassurance, especially when things go wrong. It’s as if everything that’s ever gone wrong in his life, maybe in his family’s life, has been his fault.’

  Tom touched her shoulder, frowning slightly as he asked, ‘Aren’t all kids like that? I know I was.’

  Lauren considered it.

  ‘No,’ she said eventually. ‘As a child I never felt that way, and as far as my family went, no, I didn’t ever think it was my fault things went wrong, unless, of course it was like the time I let the calves in with the cows and there was no milk the next morning.’

  She thought for a moment, before adding, ‘Later, maybe, teenage guilt stuff—I felt to blame for that,’ then was sorry her thoughts had turned that way as it swept a cloud over the bright day they’d been having.

  Though only for her because here was Bobby back from his ride and who could have clouds hovering over them when they had a child as full of life as Bobby was to entertain?

  Laden with good, and a few not so good things to eat—every boy deserved a chocolate cake made in the shape of a spaceship—they left the markets, driving further up the foothills of the mountains, stopping at the national park and walking along the track to the bottom of the falls that splashed down in a thin silver stream from high above them.

  As Lauren had been cramming towels and bathing suits for Bobby and herself into her tote she hadn’t actually considered how she’d feel wearing her rather skimpy bikini in front of Tom. Yesterday at the beach, she’d worn her other bathers—a decorous blue swimsuit that she wore for exercise swims—but it had still been wet this morning hence the bikini.

  What she also hadn’t considered was the effect seeing Tom in his swimming trunks would have on her body. Yesterday he’d been in the water with Bobby so she hadn’t had a lot of time to take in broad shoulders that sloped to a narrow waist and hips, pecs a weightlifter would be proud of, a six-pack—yes, definitely defined—and a flat stomach she could only envy.

  He had the most beautiful male body she had ever seen, and she was positively gawping at it.

  Gawping at it and thinking things she shouldn’t think about it—about how it would feel to touch the skin that slid tightly over those muscles—and how touching it would make her feel …

  Fortunately Tom was busy explaining to Bobby that the he couldn’t climb the rock beside the waterfall and jump in because you never knew what was under the water in creeks and waterholes and you could be badly injured, so she could afford a little gawp.

  ‘Or dead?’ Bobby asked Tom, reminding Lauren she had too many responsibilities right now to be considering chest appeal.

  She studied the child, wondering if the question was prompted by thoughts of his mother, but as he didn’t elaborate, she decided it must have been nothing more than a casual remark.

  The boy and the man with the chest she wasn’t going to look at any more slid carefully into the water, shrieking at the icy coldness of it, splashing and shouting so the rainforest all around came alive with the joyous noise.

  And once again a strange feeling stole over Lauren—a feeling of family—of belonging—of wanting something she’d always told herself she didn’t want—convincing herself she didn’t want it because she knew she couldn’t have it …

  Icy water should have the same effect as cold showers, Tom told himself, as he shivered in the green depths of the mountain pool. One look at Lauren in the silky scarlet bikini that hinted at more than it covered and his body had forgotten she was just a friend, and also that, at the moment anyway, he was in a position where he couldn’t do anything about any lust or attraction he might feel.

  She was a guest in his house and therefore off limits.

  ‘I can dive!’

  Bobby’s declaration brought his mind back onto his responsibilities. The kid hadn’t climbed the high rock, but he was out of the pool, standing on the bank, arms raised for a dive.

  ‘Let me check first,’ Tom told him, and he swam beneath the cool green water, checking there were no hidden obstacles that could injure Bobby as he entered the water.

  ‘Okay, it’s all clear, but always check. Will you remember that?’

  Bobby grinned at him.

  ‘Always check! I’ll remember!’

  Then he belly-flopped into the water, sinking under the surface then emerging in a mass of bubbles, arms and legs, shrieking his delight so loudly Tom heard the beat of wings as birds in surrounding trees took flight.

  But the sheer joy of the child tugged at something deep inside Tom’s heart, and whatever the something was, it niggled around and disturbed all the comfortable decisions he’d made about what he wanted out of life. No hassles, no complications—he’d never added no children because he’d never considered marriage, but …

  ‘Can you dive?’ Bobby asked, his face shiny with water and his eyes gleaming with excitement.

  ‘I can but I’m not going to dive into the pool even though I’ve checked the bottom because it’s a bit shallow for me. If I hit my head I could break my neck and be paralysed for life—that’s the kind of terrible accident you can have from something as simple as diving into a pool.’

  He was talking to air by the time he’d finished his instructive mini-lecture, Bobby now swimming underwater, bubbles rising to the surface to show his progress.

  Still bubbles rising, but hadn’t he been down there too long?

  How long was too long?

  How did parents know these things?

  Bobby burst to the surface with a loud ‘Did you see that?’ and relief washed through Tom’s body. He was assuring Bobby that he had seen it and had been very impressed when out of the corner of his eye he saw a blonde sylph in a scarlet bikini sliding into the water. Were sylphs water beings or did he mean sprites? Naiads? Nymphs? Whatever! The name no longer mattered as Lauren slipped into the water and swam towards him, starting all the unacceptable reactions again.

  Sleek as a seal, she swam his way then, thank you, Lord, turned to grab Bobby’s legs and tumble him over in the water. Tom eased back onto the bank of the creek and watched the pair play, Bobby’s joy so palpable Tom felt a rush of pleasure that he’d had a part in providing it.

  But there’d be other days when joy was absent, Tom reminded himself. Not all day perhaps, but at least for part of them. No one could promise unending joy. Was that where parents came in? Could they act as buffers in the bad times? He realised they couldn’t protect their child or children from every hurt or worry but they could help them cope with things that happened to them?

  He slid into the water again, reminding himself Bobby wasn’t going to be his long-term responsibility so he didn’t have to consider things like this. To his surprise, he found that thought profoundly depressing and it was only Bobby leaping onto his back and trying to duck him that brought him back to laughter.

  Sensing the swim was nearly over—Bobby was getting cold—Lauren slipped from the water and pulled on her long shift,
too embarrassed to have her body on view to Tom for longer than was absolutely necessary. She carried the picnic basket over to a table near a gas-fired barbecue, and began to unpack it.

  ‘Did you bring drinks?’ Bobby demanded, arriving, towel-wrapped, beside her.

  ‘Juice or water, both in the cool box,’ Lauren told him, and ignored his grumbles, knowing he was used to drinking fruit juice because it was all they had at the refuge, although fizzy soft drinks were allowed on treat nights.

  Bobby chose water then he sidled up to Lauren.

  ‘Can I help?’

  She was so surprised she had to repeat the request in her head in order to process it. This was Bobby, the child who refused to help in any household chores.

  ‘You can set the table for me,’ she told him. ‘There’s a cloth in the picnic basket, and some plastic plates, and the sauce and bread.’

  And to her further surprise Bobby set the table beautifully, spreading out the cloth, laying out the plates, shifting things here and there until satisfied with his arrangement.

  ‘Where’s Tom, did you drown him?’ she asked, then immediately regretted the joke as Bobby’s face quivered with alarm.

  ‘Here’s Tom!’ The missing man emerged from the trees near the waterfall.

  ‘I thought I saw something there and wanted to check. Have you ever seen a tawny frogmouth owl, Bobby?’

  ‘An owl? A bird owl?’ Bobby asked, so much disbelief in his voice Lauren had to smile.

  ‘An owl,’ Tom confirmed. ‘Well, we call them owls although they are really a bird like a nightjar. Come and look while the barbecue is heating up! There are three of them, the parents and a youngster, in a tree near the waterfall. They must have a nest there. Tawny frogmouths use the same nest for their eggs every year.’

  Tom led them along a track through trees, eventually stopping in a clearing and pointing up at the three birds sitting on the branch of a tree. The two adults had their beaks pointed upwards so they looked like two small branches, but the little fledgling was still practising this manoeuvre and kept moving.

  ‘Are those two big ones really birds?’ Bobby asked, and just then one of them moved, peering down at the onlookers before taking up his statue pose again.

  They stood quietly, watching the birds, Bobby obviously intrigued, asking questions about nests and eggs and how Tom had spotted them.

  ‘I was lying on my back in the pool and one of them must have moved and caught my eye so I had a closer look,’ Tom explained.

  ‘I’m glad you found them,’ Bobby said. ‘I’ve never seen birds before—well, I’ve seen birds but not owls or whatever they are, not sitting like that so near and all.’

  He turned and grinned at his two adult companions.

  ‘If they live there all the time, we could see them every time we come here, and maybe they’ll get to know us and we could give them mice or something good for them to eat,’ Bobby said.

  Lauren knew she’d stiffened, and felt Tom’s shock as well—a realisation that things were getting more complicated than they’d intended.

  ‘I think they eat insects or maybe mice,’ Tom said, and Lauren took his hand and squeezed it gratefully.

  ‘Good recovery,’ she whispered, as Bobby darted back towards the barbecue. ‘But we probably need to think about how he’s seeing this temporary care arrangement. We don’t want him hurt again, losing us as carers … ‘

  Her voice trailed off because she knew that wasn’t exactly what she’d meant. What had shocked her was how much she’d felt the family vibe, as the three of them had delighted in something as simple as a family of birds sitting in a tree.

  The situation was rife with danger, and not just the danger of more damage to Bobby’s security. Danger that became instantly apparent when, perhaps in response to the family vibe, Tom brushed his hand across her shoulder, somehow turning her, so once again, as if some unseen puppeteer was manoeuvring both their bodies, their lips met. The coil around Lauren’s heart tightened, but it was the heat that flared within her that shocked her most, making her press herself against Tom to ease the pain of it. His arms held her close, and as their lips parted and the taste of Tom turned heat to scorching need, she lost herself in feeling, freezing only when his hand touched the outside of her shift above her breast—

  ‘The sausages are cooked!’

  Bobby’s voice brought her back to her senses, although she couldn’t look at Tom, aware she’d backed away far too quickly, breaking from his arms with a forceful, panicked push.

  Aware he must be wondering what on earth was going on …

  But danger was forgotten as they ate sausages in bread with lashings of tomato sauce, and followed up with chocolate rocket cake. They walked off this repast by climbing to the top of the waterfall, up a slippery slope with spray cooling the climb.

  ‘Home time,’ Tom said eventually, and after visiting the owls once more, they drove back to town as the sun was setting behind the mountains.

  Tom offered to supervise Bobby’s bath ‘—I don’t need one, I’ve been swimming!—’ while Lauren unpacked the picnic basket and fixed toasted sandwiches for tea. The message light was flashing on Tom’s phone but she ignored it, having phoned the refuge from her mobile earlier to assure herself all was well there.

  It wasn’t until Bobby was asleep in bed that Tom checked his messages. Lauren was cleaning up their supper things so heard Mike’s voice on the answering-machine.

  ‘Still no joy in finding any of Bobby’s relations,’ he said. ‘Are you two okay to keep him a little longer?’

  More than happy as far as he was concerned, Tom answered silently, but the disturbing part of the message was the way Mike had linked them. ‘Are you two okay to keep him?’ Mike had said it as if they were a couple, and not only that but Tom had quite liked the way it had sounded.

  Given the fact that all he’d wanted, all his life, had been to live alone, that reaction was disturbing. Oh, as he’d grown older he’d realised the value of friendship and had some good, even close friends, and naturally as he’d matured he’d learnt the pleasures of female company and again had made arrangements that fitted in with the life he’d planned all those years ago.

  And he’d been happy—he knew he had been—so why were silly incidents like looking at a family of tawny frogmouth birds, not to mention a casual kiss, disturbing him?

  ‘Are we okay keeping him?’

  At least she had emphasised the ‘are’, not the ‘we’, although the ‘we’ disturbed him in the same way the moments near the tawny frogmouths had.

  ‘Of course,’ Tom told her, ignoring concerns multiplying in his head. ‘Well, I am, anyway, for as long as possible. He needs a bit of stability right now.’

  Lauren smiled at him and whether it was the relaxing day, or the memory of what had happened after they’d been watching the owls, the smile started a different warmth from the one he was becoming used to feeling in Lauren’s presence.

  It was a pleasant, gentle warmth, spreading easily through his body, not zeroing like heat downward to his groin.

  Not desire at all, just warmth …

  Very strange!

  ‘I think I’ll turn in now,’ Lauren said, hovering in the kitchen.

  ‘No, it’s far too early. Join me for a nightcap on the veranda. I’ve a lovely chocolate liqueur, or a very nice old malt whisky. Just a snifter?’

  Another smile and a nod of agreement.

  ‘But no drink,’ she said. ‘I’m just as happy to sit and look out over the ocean.’

  So they sat, and for some reason, before long, they held hands.

  It was comfortable, and companionable, and although he knew he must be wrong to be thinking this way, it seemed to Tom, after a while, that it might almost be better than sex …

  Then he remembered the kiss they’d shared in the rainforest and knew he was probably wrong …

  CHAPTER SIX

  TOM ‘S new, unprecedented reactions to Lauren needed thought,
while the effect her presence in his house was having on him required a lot of consideration. He took both the thought and the further consideration with him when he went to bed. They’d sat for an hour, maybe a little more, desultory conversation starting and stopping between them, nothing startling, nothing even important, catching up on each other’s recent lives, discussing all the little things about bringing up a child that neither of them had ever considered.

  ‘Not that he’s ours,’ Lauren had said, and he’d caught a note of not sadness but definitely regret in her voice.

  ‘No, he couldn’t be,’ Tom had told her, and felt the same regret inside him.

  Not that he wanted an eight-year-old boy.

  Not that he wanted a child of any kind.

  Children needed commitment.

  Children needed love …

  He stopped thinking about Bobby and children in general and definitely stopped thinking about love, eventually drifting off to sleep, thinking about a woman in a bed two rooms away …

  Not that sleep lasted long, the jangling summons of the phone bringing him into a sitting position to answer it—

  something he’d trained himself to do after he’d learned that answering the phone lying down meant risking going back to sleep.

  Lauren met him in the passage as he pulled on his shirt before hurrying across to the hospital.

  ‘Accident?’ she asked.

  Tom nodded, then touched her on the shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry the phone woke you. Go back to bed. I could be a while.’

  ‘Good luck,’ she whispered, and now he understood why he’d felt not lonely but a little strange lying in his big bed earlier—he was becoming accustomed to having Lauren in his house, having someone who cared about him enough to pour him coffee, eat meals with, or say good luck when he went out into the night to face the terrible things people could do to themselves or others.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, and bent to kiss her, aiming for her cheek, changing his mind at the last moment because the kiss that had somehow happened near the waterfall had tasted sweet and clean, and he wanted to check the taste again, to feel the softness of those lips, trembling just slightly beneath his.