The Nurse's Christmas Gift

by Tina Beckett

  ‘Is that a dinner invitation?’ He cocked a brow at her.

  Her smile faded. ‘Of course not. I just meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant.’ His jaw stiffened. ‘I was joking.’

  ‘Of course.’ Annabelle began collecting some of the discarded treatment items, not looking at him. It was then he realised how harsh his voice had been. It reminded him of the time he’d finally had enough of the procedures and the heartache. He’d been harsh then too. Very harsh, if he looked back on it now.

  Max moved in closer, lifting a hand to touch her arm, then deciding better of it.

  ‘I’m sorry for snapping at you. I would say chalk it up to exhaustion, but that’s no excuse.’ He could envision this scene repeating itself ad nauseam unless he put a stop to it. ‘Maybe we really should grab a bite when we’re done here. We can figure out how we’re going to work together for the next several months without constantly being at each other’s throats.’

  She glanced up at him. ‘I think we can manage to bump into each other now and then without having a meltdown.’

  This time the sharpness was on her side.

  ‘I know we can.’ He took a deep breath and dragged a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I’m trying to figure out how to make this easier on both of us, since I assume neither one of us is going to resign.’

  It wasn’t just because of his contract. He’d known for a long time that this day was coming. When he’d have to face his past and decide how to move forward. Maybe that time was now. He could go on putting it off, as he had over the past three years, but this wasn’t Africa where he could just immerse himself in work and not have to see her day after day. They were looking at months of working together. At least.

  ‘I love my post.’ The sharpness in her voice had given way to a slight tremor. Did she think he was going to cause trouble for her or ask her to leave?

  ‘I know you do. And I don’t want to make you miserable by being here.’ This time, he touched her gloved hand. Just for a second. ‘Will it really be so very hard, Anna?’

  ‘No. It’s just that I never expected to...’

  ‘You never expected to see me again.’

  ‘No. Honestly I didn’t.’

  ‘But we both knew we would eventually have to finalise things. We can’t live in limbo for ever.’ This wasn’t the direction he’d wanted to go with this discussion. But now that he was here, he had to see it through.

  ‘You’re right.’ She glanced down at the items in her hand and then went over to throw them in the rubbish bin. Then she moved over to the exam table and pushed the little girl’s hair out of her face. The tenderness in her eyes made his stomach contract. She would have made such a wonderful mum. It was a shame that biology—and fate—kept her from being one. No power known to medical science had seemed able to work out what the problem was. Or how to fix it.

  What he hadn’t expected was for her to shove him out of her life the second she realised he was serious about not trying again. That bitter pill had taken ages to go down. But it finally had. And when it did, he realised his parents had taught him a valuable lesson. Keeping his heart to himself really was the better way.

  When she looked up at him again, all hints of tenderness were gone, replaced by a resolute determination. ‘You’re right. We can’t live in limbo. So this time the invitation is real. If you don’t have plans, I think we should have dinner. And decide where to go from here.’

  Suddenly that discussion didn’t look quite as attractive as it had moments earlier. But since he’d been the one to suggest sitting down and talking things over, he couldn’t very well refuse. ‘Okay, once Sarah’s parents have had their visit, we’ll head out.’

  A half-hour later, Max had scrawled the last of his instructions in Sarah’s chart and set it in the holder outside her door. The girl’s parents were still sitting by her bedside. He’d sent Annabelle on ahead to get her things.

  As he stretched his back a couple of vertebrae popped, relieving the tension that had been building along his spine. He was dog tired. Maybe having dinner with Annabelle wasn’t such a good idea. The discussion should probably wait until they were both rested.

  Except there’d never seemed to be a right time to approach their unfinished business. So they had to make time.

  He went to the men’s changing room and washed his hands and then bent down to splash his face. Blotting it dry with a paper towel from the dispenser, he caught a glance at his reflection.

  Dark hair, still cut short from his time overseas, was just starting to grey at the temples. Where had the years gone?

  One minute he’d been a happily married man, and the next he’d been on the brink of divorce and living like a nomad, going from place to place but never really settling down. Maybe he should have joined the military. Except he hadn’t wanted to give up the possibility of coming back to work in his field, and he would have either had to retrain for his speciality or settled for a position as a general surgeon. He loved paediatric cardiology in a way he couldn’t explain to anyone but himself. So he’d gone with Doctors Without Borders.

  Only his travels had simply delayed the inevitable. He still had to face the ghosts of his past.

  He didn’t want to hurt Annabelle. And he wasn’t quite sure why he’d never signed the papers the second he’d realised what the packet of documents contained. Maybe he’d used them as a cautionary tale of what could happen when you opened your heart up to someone. Or maybe marriage had been an easy excuse for not getting involved with anyone else—not that he ever planned on it. Some day, though, Annabelle would meet Mr. Right and would want to be free to be with him. Their old life would stand in the way of that.

  So, were they going to discuss their past tonight? Or discuss how to work together in the future?

  He wasn’t sure. They were both tired. And probably overly emotional.

  Maybe he should just let Annabelle take the lead as far as topics went. And if she decided she wanted those divorce papers signed post haste, he might just have to tackle a tough conversation after all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  THE PUB WAS PACKED. And with the clanging of plates and raucous laughter, it was hard to think, much less carry on a civilised conversation. Not the kind of place to go after dealing with a twelve-hour day of work.

  But the place was also dark, with just some dim wall sconces lighting the way towards the tables. A few coloured bulbs along the bar were the only concession to the upcoming Christmas season.

  O’Malley’s wasn’t a normal hospital hangout, but that was okay. She wanted privacy. Which was one of the reasons Annabelle had suggested it. If they were going to have The Talk, opening up the subject of their past, she didn’t want anyone to overhear the conversation.

  And the low lighting would keep Max from seeing her expression. In the past, he’d always been able to read her like a book. It had been no different in that treatment room an hour earlier, when he’d known instantly that he’d hurt her with his words and apologised. She hated that he could still decipher her expressions. And when he’d touched her...

  No doubt he’d seen the heat that washed into her face. Well, this time she was going to make it a little harder on him, if she could.

  They followed the waitress to a small table for two in the very back of the place. Max waited for her to sit down before pulling his own chair out.

  The server plonked a menu down in front of each of them, having to speak loudly to be heard above the din. ‘What would you like to drink?’

  Annabelle tried to decide if she wanted to risk imbibing or if she should play it safe. Oh, what the hell? Maybe she should dull her senses just a little. ‘I’ll have white wine.’

  Writing her request down in a little book, the woman then turned her attention to Max. And ‘turned her attention’ was evident
ly synonymous with turning on her charm. Because suddenly the waitress was all smiles, fiddling with her hair. ‘And you, sir?’

  ‘I’ll have a whisky sour, thank you.’ He sent her a quick smile, but to his credit there was nothing behind it that hinted of any interest in whatever the waitress was offering. And she was offering. As a woman, Annabelle recognised the signs, even though she had never gone the flirting route.

  At least not until she met Max.

  Evidently realising she was out of luck, the woman shifted her gaze to Max’s left hand, then she snapped her little book shut and flounced off.

  Max didn’t wear his ring any more. But then again, neither did she.

  ‘Thank you for that.’

  Max tilted his head. ‘For what?’

  ‘Not responding to her in front of me.’

  Up went one brow. ‘Not my type.’

  That made her laugh, and her muscles all loosened. ‘Really? Because she seemed to think you were hers.’

  ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ She sat back in her chair and studied him. Max had always been handsome. But in the three years since she’d seen him, he’d grown even more attractive, although there was a deep groove between his brows that she didn’t remember seeing when they were together.

  ‘Seriously. She was probably just being friendly.’

  ‘Seriously, huh? I don’t know. Maybe we should make a little bet on it.’

  ‘I don’t bet on things like that.’ The furrow above his nose deepened. ‘Not any more.’

  He didn’t bet on what? Relationships? Because of her?

  That wasn’t what she wanted for Max. His childhood had been rough as it was, devoid of affection...love. He deserved to be happy, and she wanted that for him. Even now.

  ‘We never really talked about it. What happened all those years ago.’ Suddenly she wished she’d chosen a place a little less loud as she fingered the plastic placemat in front of her.

  ‘I seem to remember a lot of talking. Most of it angry.’

  Yes, there had been the arguments. Especially at the end, when he’d found her journal, the smoking gun that she was still hoping against hope that she would become pregnant.

  Even before that, though, Max had become someone she didn’t recognise. Impatient. Short. And somehow sad. That was the worst of all the emotions she’d seen in him. She’d tried so hard to have a child, thinking it would make everything better between them. That it would bind Max to her in a physical way—give him a sense of roots. Instead, it had only made things worse. The pregnancy attempts had ended up becoming a vicious cycle of failure and then increased desperation. Instead of binding them together, her attempts had torn them apart.

  The waitress came and set their drinks in front of them. ‘Are you ready to order?’ Her voice wasn’t nearly as friendly this time.

  ‘Fish and chips for me and a glass of water, please.’ Annabelle was craving good, old-fashioned fare.

  ‘I’ll have the same. And a dark ale to go with it, please.’

  Annabelle didn’t remember Max being a big drinker. Not that two drinks constituted an alcoholic. He just seemed...harder, somehow. Less approachable. Like his parents?

  Once the waitress was gone, Annabelle picked up her wine, sipping with care.

  Max, however, lifted his own glass and took a deep drink. ‘I haven’t had one of these in a long time. This place was a good choice.’

  ‘Ella and I like to come here every once in a while. It’s out of the way and loud enough that you don’t have to think.’

  He seemed to digest that for a moment. ‘Not as loud as some of the places I’ve been.’

  Interesting.

  ‘Where have you been? If you don’t mind my asking.’ She didn’t feel like talking about the arguments or failures of the past.

  ‘I don’t. I joined up with Doctors Without Borders. In between contracts in England, I’ve gone wherever they’ve needed me. Kenya, a time or two, but mostly the Sudan. I spent the last six months there.’

  Annabelle listened, fascinated, as he shared what he’d done in the years since he’d left their flat. Some of the stories were horrifying. ‘Isn’t it hard to see that?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And yet you keep going back. After this contract is up and Sienna is back from maternity leave, will you return there?’

  The waitress arrived with their food and drinks, quickly asking if they needed anything else.

  ‘I think we’re good, thank you.’

  When they were alone again, he drank the last of his whisky. ‘I don’t know what I’m going to do once this contract is up. I’ve been thinking about settling someplace on a more permanent basis.’

  From what he’d told her, he’d hopped from city to city, country to country as the whim took him.

  She was on her first bite of fish when he asked, ‘How long have you lived in Cheltenham?’

  It took her a second to chew and swallow. ‘A year. I went to live with my mum for a while after...well, after you left.’

  ‘Suzanne told me you didn’t stay in the flat for long.’

  Annabelle had missed their cleaning lady. ‘Did you think I would?’

  ‘I didn’t really know what you would do. I went back after my first trip, almost a year later, and you were gone.’

  ‘I just couldn’t...stay.’

  ‘Neither could I.’ He paused. ‘Even if you hadn’t asked me to go, I would have. Things were never going to change.’

  This was the most she’d ever been able to drag out of him. And she wasn’t even having to drag. Back then they would fight, and then Max would clam up for days on end, his tight jaw attesting to the fact that he was holding his emotions at bay with difficulty.

  He’d once told her that his parents had been the same way with him—their anger had translated into silence. He’d struggled with breaking those old patterns their entire marriage. But in the last six months of it, those habits had come back with a vengeance. If she’d tried to probe or make things right between them—with the offer of physical intimacy—he’d always seemed to have some meeting or suddenly had a shift at the hospital. She’d finally got the message: he didn’t want to be with her, except when absolutely necessary for the in-vitro procedures. And then, after her last miscarriage, he was done trying for a baby.

  Actually, Max had been done. Full stop. He’d left their relationship long before he’d actually walked out of the door.

  She took another sip of her water to moisten her mouth as she got ready to tackle the most difficult subject of all.

  ‘You haven’t signed the papers.’

  There was a pause.

  ‘No. I’ve been overseas on and off.’ He shrugged. ‘After a while, I forgot about them.’

  That stung, but she tried not to let it. ‘Doesn’t it make going out on dates awkward?’

  ‘I’ve been busy. No time—or inclination—to jump back into those waters.’

  His answer made Annabelle cringe. ‘I’m sorry if I’m the reason for that.’

  ‘I just haven’t seen many happy marriages.’

  ‘My parents are happy.’

  He smiled at that. ‘They are the exception to the rule. How are they?’

  ‘They’re fine. So are my sisters. Jessica had another boy while you were gone—his name is Nate.’ She didn’t want to delve into the fact that her parents’ and siblings’ relationships had all seemed to work out just swimmingly. Except for hers.

  ‘That’s wonderful. I’m happy for them.’

  Popping a chip into her mouth, she tried not to think about how different their childhoods had been. Max’s parents had seemed unhappy to be tied down with a child. They’d evidently loved to travel, and he had cramped their style.

/>   Annabelle’s home, on the other hand, had been filled with love and laughter, and when her parents had travelled—on long road trips, mostly—their kids had gone with them. She had wonderful memories of those adventures.

  She’d hoped she and Max could have the same type of relationship. Instead, she’d become so focused on a single aspect of what constituted a family that she’d ignored the other parts.

  Had she been so needy back then that she’d damaged Max somehow?

  Well, hadn’t their breakup damaged her?

  Yes, but not in the way she’d expected. Annabelle had grown thicker skin over the past three years. Before, it seemed as if her whole life had been about Max and their quest to have a family. When that had begun breaking down and she’d sensed a lack of support on Max’s side to continue, she’d become more and more withdrawn. She could see now how she’d withheld love whenever Max hadn’t done exactly what she’d wanted. Just as his parents had.

  She regretted that more than anything.

  ‘So what do you want to do about it?’

  He set his glass down. ‘About what?’

  Did she need to spell it out? ‘About the paperwork. Maybe this is the reason we’ve been thrown back together. To tie up loose ends.’

  A smile tilted up one side of his mouth. ‘So I’m a loose end, now, am I?’

  Nothing about Max was loose. He’d always been lean and fit, but now there was a firmness to him that spoke of muscle. Like the biceps that just peeked out from beneath the polo shirt he’d changed into before leaving the hospital.

  They’d checked on Baby Hope before taking off. She was still holding her own, against all odds. But if a donor heart was not found soon...

  She shrugged off the thought. ‘You’re not a loose end. But maybe I’m one of yours. You could be happy, Max. Find the right woman, and—’

  ‘You’re not a loose end, either.’ His hand covered hers, an index finger coaxing hers to curl around it. The sensation was unbearably intimate and so like times past that she was helpless not to respond to the request. Their fingers twined. Tightened. The same heat from the exam room sloshed up her neck and into her face.