Dynamite Doc or Christmas Dad?

by Marion Lennox

  Dusty was looking worried. ‘You want to do an operation on Pokey?’

  ‘That’s exactly what I don’t want,’ Ben said. ‘That’s what ultra sounds are for. It’s a method of photography, of seeing exactly what’s inside our Pokey. We can look at the puppies, measure their heads and make sure they’re all pointing in the right direction. Then we can all relax and wait for the puppies to come. Shall we try?’

  ‘Now?’ Jess demanded, startled.

  ‘Why not? Is that okay with you, Dusty?’

  ‘Yes,’ Dusty said, the last of the morning’s trauma set aside. He smiled shyly at this wonderful new uncle. ‘Yes, it is.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY walked over to the convention centre, Pokey in Dusty’s arms. Ben suggested she walk but Dusty wanted to carry her and the little dog seemed to like it.

  ‘You really think these guys will let us use their state-of-the-art ultrasound on Pokey?’ Jess demanded.

  ‘Watch,’ Ben said.

  The convention centre was another world; almost incongruous in this beautiful island setting. It was a vast glass rotunda, looking out in all directions at the beauty of the island. It was decorated for Christmas but there were no garish decorations here. The Christmas tree was a live Australian bottlebrush, twenty feet high, each ‘brush’ its natural crimson with sparkling golden tips. It was stunning.

  So was Ben.

  The woman in charge of the scanner was in her fifties, cool, clinical, reminding Jess of the consultant in charge of her first-ever training placement. Almost scary. Jess could see her assessing the foursome as they approached. Jess had tugged on a neat skirt and blouse to do her best to look professional, but there was no way she could stop Dusty looking tearstained, and Pokey, fat and frumpy, was hardly a fashion accessory.

  ‘Dogs aren’t permitted in the resort,’ the woman began, but Ben held out his hand and gripped hers before she could go any further.

  ‘I’m Professor Oaklander and this is Dr McPherson from the UK. You must be Elizabeth Morey—I’ve heard great things about your team and your product. I’d like to mention your work in my keynote address tomorrow—it fits magnificently into my theme of remote medicine—but I thought I’d arrange the ultimate test first. I’ve persuaded Dusty here to lend us his dog. Pokey’s here by special arrangement with management. Her pregnancy’s almost full term. If your machine can show us her pups in minute detail, it must be capable of detecting abnormalities in human presentation. Would you be happy to agree?’

  ‘Ultrasound…a dog?’ Elizabeth was clearly taken aback.

  ‘We have obstetricians coming from all over the world,’ Ben reminded her. ‘Many of them care for women in remote areas, or teach those who do. That’s one of my pet projects—improving on-site care so women don’t have to be transferred to cities without need. Now, I know you can’t do a human ultrasound—any presentation would need to be video only—but what I propose is one step better. I propose we record Pokey’s ultrasound, and show it, at the same time producing Pokey as show-and-tell. If she’s amenable we might even be able to repeat the ultrasound on stage. Our audience can see how small she is, how small the pups are and what your machine’s capable of. I suspect it’ll make my job easier—persuading doctors that these machines can be useful—and it’ll certainly make your sales pitch a whole lot simpler.’

  And she was sold, just like that.

  It was as much as Jess could do not to giggle.

  She didn’t. Ben was being professional. So must she.

  She squeezed Dusty’s hand, but Dusty was looking up at Ben and she could see…awe? The beginning of belief. This new uncle was…wonderful?

  He wasn’t bad, Jess conceded, but she wasn’t about to think wonderful. She couldn’t afford to let herself forget he was an Oaklander.

  She’d been stunned by an Oaklander before.

  Elizabeth led them into an anteroom where her team was setting up their display. Briefly the woman outlined what Ben intended—and immediately she had three technicians onside, desperate to prove the efficacy of their new toy.

  And Pokey proved herself a worthy subject. A dummy of a pregnant woman was put aside. Dusty set Pokey on the examination table in her place. With only the slightest encouragement Pokey rolled over. When stroked, she obliged by sticking her legs straight up, dead-dog position, exposing her swollen belly for inspection.

  The technicians loved her. Even the rigidly proper Elizabeth came close to smiling.

  Jess had thought they might need to shave her, but she had very little hair on her underside. They anointed her with gel, the wand slid easily over her swollen bulge and images started appearing.

  ‘Can you people explain this?’ Ben said. ‘I’m good at big babies but puppies… Is it even possible to get detail?’

  The technicians practically purred. Doctor admitting he knew less than they did. This was their baby, and they were out to prove their mettle.

  ‘Head circumferences…’ Ben murmured.

  ‘What, for all of them?’ the junior-most technician said, and Elizabeth quelled him with a glare.

  ‘Of course,’ she snapped. ‘We can do that, can’t we, Tony?’

  ‘I’m guessing yes.’ The senior technician was intrigued and challenged. ‘But let’s count heads first.’

  ‘Quads,’ Ben said in satisfaction as they stared at the fuzzy images on the screen. Four. ‘We’ve been worried about octuplets. Head sizes for eight might be a problem.’

  ‘With eight we’d have a puppy knot,’ Tony agreed. ‘This will be hard enough. But doable. Let’s focus on this guy first in line to come out.’ He grinned. ‘You don’t want sex, too?’

  ‘Why not?’ Ben asked, and everyone chuckled—including Elizabeth.

  ‘It’d be something if we could get it,’ she murmured, and Jess saw sales in her eyes and satisfaction in Ben’s.

  And in twenty minutes they had it. A perfect picture of exactly what was going on inside Pokey. The little dog had been patience personified. Dusty had stroked her, spoken gently to her as the technicians argued about what belonged to what, how best to get head circumference, how to try and sex them. They even thought they knew.

  ‘I’m betting three boys and a girl,’ Tony said. ‘There’s no head circumference that’ll cause problems with a pelvis that size. That first little guy looks perfectly presented. Whoever Pokey’s obstetrician is can relax. Dad can pop out and stock up on cigars; this is as good as in the bag.’

  General chuckle. General satisfaction. Pokey’s tummy was wiped, she almost reluctantly ceased her dead-dog roll and they were done.

  ‘Four puppies,’ Dusty said, awed. ‘Can we keep one?’

  Uh-oh. She should have seen that coming. Hospital apartment on the other side of the world…

  ‘Never count your chickens before they’re hatched,’ Ben said, scooping Pokey out of Dusty’s arms, tucking the confused little dog into the crook of his own arm and then taking Dusty’s small hand into his large one. ‘And that goes for puppies. You might take one look and think, yikes, they’re pink.’

  ‘Pink!’

  ‘You never know with babies,’ Ben said solemnly. ‘Do we know for sure who the daddy is? Was he pink?’

  ‘No, I—’

  ‘Then we just have to wait until they’re hatched,’ he said. ‘Meanwhile, did you say you had a spade?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dusty was thoroughly bemused.

  ‘Then I want one, too. It’s ageism to give you a spade and not me. I’m off to complain to the manager right now. And once I have my spade, what I propose is beach.’

  ‘Beach.’ Dusty was having trouble keeping up.

  ‘Beach,’ Ben said definitely. ‘I’ve checked out your castle from this morning and I’m sorry to tell you that the moat hasn’t protected the foundations. I have a suspicion your castle now has water in the basement. So I suggest you guys go put on your swimmers. I’ll complain to the management about my lack of spade, demand one for myself, and while I’
m at it I’ll ask for a picnic rug, a picnic basket and a sleeping basket for Pokey. My plan is for fast castle repairs, then supper on the beach, then a swim and then bed. We all have a big day tomorrow. I’m talking at the conference. You’re Pokey-minding. Your mother has to listen to me talking. That’ll be the hardest task of all. So do we have a plan?’

  She was more bemused than Dusty was. Swept away…

  Keep your feet firmly on the ground, she told herself. This guy is an Oaklander.

  No. This man was Ben and right now he was wonderful. He was making her son happy. She had no intention of being swept up in his smile, but she could relax for a little. She could even agree to his plan.

  She could even smile back.

  She was lying on the sand, a small fat dog curled up beside her, watching her son play in the shallows with his uncle.

  How easy was this?

  She could have approached this man years ago. He would have accepted the relationship, she thought. He seemed to be…kind.

  Pokey wriggled beside her, trying to find a comfy spot for her very pregnant body. She stroked her and thought what an amazing act of kindness, to take this dog. She was under no illusion as to how hard it must have been. He’d have had to spin a very tall story. He might even have had to play a bit dumb. ‘Dogs not permitted? How was I expected to know?’

  There was no way anyone of less standing—and less critical importance to the event’s success—could get away with it.

  He’d even manoeuvred Pokey an ultrasound.

  ‘He’s impressive,’ she murmured to Pokey, and Pokey rolled over and did her dead-dog thing again so she’d get another tummy rub.

  ‘That’s enough of pleasure for you in this pregnancy,’ she said, trying to sound severe—and failing. ‘The rest is hard work.’

  Pokey looked at her with doubt.

  ‘I wouldn’t worry. You have one of the world’s best obstetricians to help you,’ she told her, and tickled her tummy some more.

  And glanced at the water.

  Ben had Dusty on his shoulders. He was chest deep in the surf, holding Dusty’s hands, and Dusty was falling forward in a practice dive. His first ever diving lesson.

  He was going right under, something he’d always been afraid of. Spluttering and laughing. Being swept up and put on Ben’s shoulders to try again.

  Like father and son.

  Not quite.

  Nephew and uncle.

  It was more than she’d expected. More than she’d hoped for.

  It was…just a little bit scary.

  That’s why she was here, lying on the sand, watching. The temptation to join them was almost irresistible but she’d been chuckling with the two of them, being splashed, splashing in turn, when suddenly she’d stopped enjoying herself. She’d felt fear.

  Had Ben guessed? She’d told them she was getting cold but in truth it had been no such thing. Ben’s gaze had met hers, and there was a flash of something between them.

  He was being kind to Dusty. That was all.

  They were staggering out of the water now, waving to her. No, not waving to her but to someone behind her. She turned and one of the resort staff was walking down the track toward them. Kathy. Carrying a basket.

  Supper.

  Supper and then bed. Tomorrow the conference started. Ben would be surrounded by professional colleagues, their separate worlds would take over, this time would be over.

  He and Dusty could keep in touch, she thought, hopefully. Email was great. Maybe even Skype so they could see each other.

  For Dusty to have an uncle on the other side of the world was a gift.

  And maybe it was just as well he would be on the other side of the world, she told herself, feeling breathless as she watched her son and his uncle walk hand in hand up the beach toward them. Ben was wearing boxer-swimmers, nothing else.

  Had Nate’s body been so…ripped?

  She couldn’t remember.

  She would have remembered if it had looked like this, she thought, and by the time they reached her she was struggling to subdue a blush that seemed to be enveloping her from the toes up.

  Luckily they were preoccupied. ‘Excellent,’ Dusty said, in tones of someone who hadn’t seen food for days. ‘I’m starving.’

  ‘You had a really late lunch.’

  ‘That was hours ago.’ Kathy reached them and set down the basket. ‘Hi,’ Dusty said, abandoning his habitual shyness. He’d met this girl twice now, he was growing accustomed to the relaxed tone of the staff, so obviously it was time to move to familiarity. ‘Are you pregnant?’

  Kids… She had to talk to him about this, she thought. If Kathy had just been overweight…

  She wasn’t. She was wearing a hotel uniform resewn as a maternity smock, with a tiny white apron, tied high. Very high, Jess thought suddenly. She’d been preoccupied and tired the first couple of times she’d met her. Now she thought…it was tied very high indeed.

  ‘Good guess,’ Kathy said, smiling and stooping to put the picnic basket on the sand, but Ben was before her, taking it from her.

  There was that smile again. Jess watched as the girl responded and she thought no wonder the man was such a successful obstetrician. Who could panic in the face of this smile?

  ‘You shouldn’t be carrying picnic baskets,’ Ben said. ‘Not this heavy.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Kathy said.

  But she didn’t look fine, Jess thought. She looked…strained.

  It really had been too heavy for her. Suddenly she was professional again, homing in on the woman’s body, the woman’s needs.

  She looked young. Nineteen? Twenty? Not much older than when she herself had had her baby.

  Kathy. She sounded Irish.

  ‘I can’t believe you persuaded management to let you keep the dog here,’ she said.

  ‘I’m very persuasive,’ Ben said. ‘Now, about this basket. Isn’t there something in your pregnancy handbook that says you shouldn’t be carrying anything heavy this close to delivery?’ He frowned. ‘Come to think of it…this place is classified as remote. Should you even be here?’

  ‘Of course I should.’ Kathy’s face shuttered, and there was suddenly a trace of panic in her voice. ‘I can work until early January, four weeks before I’m due. Can you sign the chit, please? I need to get back.’

  ‘You’re closer than thirty-six weeks,’ Ben said.

  ‘I’m not,’ she said, flatly and definitely. ‘I’m thirty-four weeks. I’m fine. Please, please, don’t make trouble for me.’

  ‘Would it be trouble,’ Ben asked softly, ‘if your baby was due earlier?’ He assessed her for a long moment, and so did Jess. The baby was lying low. Maybe it was the end of a long shift. The girl looked exhausted.

  ‘It’s not,’ she said.

  ‘If it was…’

  ‘I want to stay. I have friends here. I help out at the sanctuary on my days off. I just… Please…sign.’ She thrust the voucher at Ben as if it was hot coals.

  He signed it, looking troubled. His eyes didn’t leave hers.

  ‘I’m not making trouble for you,’ he said.

  ‘You’ve no cause.’

  ‘You know the resort’s full of obstetricians who might guess…’

  ‘There’s nothing to guess. It won’t come for weeks. Months even.’ She tried to smile, but it didn’t quite come off. ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘I have a lovely day tomorrow. I’m rostered on to kids’ club, which means my job’s to be companion to Dusty.’ She turned to Dusty. ‘I’m not very good at knowing what guys like, so I hope you’ll tell me. And my boss now seems to think dog care is in there as well, so I figure…you take care of the dog and I’ll sit round and make sure you don’t fall in the pool. Is that okay?’

  Jess watched Dusty respond to the girl’s nervous smile, and thought the girl had skill. She’d approached Dusty just the right way.

  But her pregnancy…

  ‘Just tell me you’ve having regular antenatal checks,’ Ben growled, and t
he girl nodded.

  ‘I’m having regular antenatal checks.’ She was a bad liar.

  But there was nothing they could do. Jess watched Ben hesitate, she almost saw the mental shrug, the decision that help wasn’t being asked for, wasn’t wanted, wasn’t welcome.

  Ben backed off.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ Dusty said happily, and plonked down on the picnic rug and set to important business.

  Supper.

  More important than babies any day.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  WITH supper over, Dusty drooped. The day had been too much. Jet lag was still catching up with them. Jess was feeling exhausted herself and when Dusty leaned against her and fell fast asleep she wasn’t surprised. She was only surprised she was still awake herself.

  The light was fading. The night was still and warm. The surf was a soft hush-hush on the golden sand, and Ben was overseeing all like a beneficent genie.

  He’d spent time taking photographs of Pokey—‘for tomorrow’s presentation,’ he’d said, but wouldn’t elaborate. Then he’d fallen silent, watching sandpipers scavenge in the shallows. He was…restful, she thought, though maybe restful was the wrong word. Every nerve ending was aware of him, but in a weird kind of way, like he’d somehow infiltrated her normal tense self and set her fears aside.

  ‘I guess we take our babies to bed,’ he said at last, and it was all part of the dream. Take our babies to bed… Like they were a family.

  I’ll take care of you for ever… Nate’s promise was suddenly there, front and centre, and she was wide awake.

  There was no for ever.

  This guy was Nate’s brother.

  She shifted Dusty so he lay curled on the rug while she started shoving stuff together.

  ‘Leave them,’ Ben growled. ‘No one’s going to steal the spades. I’ll come back down for them later. You carry Pokey, I’ll carry Dusty.’

  ‘I can carry—’

  ‘Pokey,’ he said.

  ‘It’s not me who’s pregnant.’

  ‘No, but you were,’ he said softly. ‘And Nate left you. I know enough about my brother to realise you’ll have done this alone. You’re still doing it alone. There’s no way I can help that, but for tonight at least I can be family.’