As dusk fell they tucked Kathy and her precious bundle— Pumpkin until something more dignified occurred—into Sally’s bed. Ben decreed Mike have Dianne’s bed; he’d sleep on the veranda.
Dusty wilted and headed for bed as well.
‘But I’m worried about Slash,’ he said as Jess tucked him in. ‘He’s still not eating and he has a bump on his stomach.’
Slash. The snake. A bump.
Infection? Uh-oh.
‘I’ll take a look,’ she promised.
‘Get Uncle Ben to take a look.’
‘Hey—are you saying Ben’s a better doctor than me?’
‘Just…different,’ he said sleepily. ‘Like my skateboard and field glasses are different. I want them both.’ He hugged her and snuggled. ‘Like I want you and Uncle Ben.’
Right.
She should go to bed too, she thought. It was barely nine. She needed to check on Slash.
She walked out into the starlit night, avoiding the veranda. Chicken.
‘I’d rather be a chicken than a dead hen,’ she told herself, thinking she wasn’t exactly making sense. She’d had one glass of champagne for dinner. One glass too many?
Slash’s pen was by the side of the house, one of a series of small enclosures for patients who might, as part of their recuperation, feel the need to eat other patients. It wasn’t such a problem in her normal line of work, Jess acknowledged, smiling a little to herself as she rounded the corner. She flicked on the flashlight she’d brought with her and saw Ben lying full length in front of the wire. Shining his own flashlight through the netting.
Had Dusty warned him, too?
She almost retreated, but he’d seen her light. He turned and waved his flashlight.
‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Dr McPherson. Just who I need for a second professional opinion.’
‘Infection?’ she asked, cautious.
‘Come take a look,’ he said, and wiggled sideways on the grass so she could lie beside him.
Lie beside him? A girl would have to be mad.
A girl didn’t have much choice. She lay beside him.
He was back peering into the enclosure, totally focused. ‘Dusty told me Slash had a bump,’ he said.
‘He told me that, too,’ she said. ‘That’s why I’m out here.’ It was good to get that clear. Just in case he had the idea she might have come looking for him.
‘The bump’s moving.’
The bump was what? Had she heard right? ‘Sorry?’
‘Look for yourself,’ he said, and edged a tiny bit further, but not far. She still had to lie hard against him.
She lay hard against him. Not so wise—but he was focused on Slash. A professional opinion. Right.
Her flashlight joined his.
A bump…
Definitely a bump.
And…definitely moving.
The thickening was around the snake’s rear third. She’d noticed it…the thickening…when they’d treated the wound, but… ‘I—I thought she’d just eaten something,’ she stammered, awed. ‘I mean…she looked thickish but not…’
‘Pregnant? And here I was thinking you were the snake expert.’ Reproach at its finest. I believe we even discarded the diagnosis… “Pity it’s not pregnant.”’
‘I don’t even know where its heart is, much less its uterus,’ she admitted. ‘You’re sure? I mean, it’s not just worms or something?’
‘Look,’ he said, and directed his flashlight further down.
Slash’s tail was slightly raised. There was a flap of what looked like, well, snake skin for want of a better description, toward the tip. It was also raised. And as they watched, a tiny, membrane-covered bump emerged from underneath and then retreated. The snake’s body rippled. The lump heaved inside her.
‘It must be worms,’ Jess said, not sure whether to be awed or revolted. ‘For heaven’s sake, baby snakes?’
‘I’m sure of it. I did a dash inside to the internet,’ Ben said. ‘First puppies. Now snakes. It’s a bit late for an ultrasound now but apparently they can have up to forty.’
‘Forty!’
‘This one’s taking a while. Do you think forceps?’
She shook her head in disbelief. This night was crazy. ‘Why don’t we order an epidural while we’re at it?’ she muttered. ‘I’m sure she’s hurting.’
‘It’d be an interesting anaesthetic case,’ Ben admitted. ‘Wow, it’s all out.’
It was all out. A membranous bulge, like a shell-less egg, was emerging from under the flap of skin. There was a moment’s squirming and then a tiny snake was coiling out onto the ground beside its mother.
‘One,’ Ben said in satisfaction.’ What do you call forty babies? Like quads only quads by ten. Deci-quads. I need to count. One down. Thirty-nine to go. Give or take a snake.’
‘You’re going to lie and count all night?’
‘A good obstetrician never leaves the hospital until the patient’s safely delivered,’ he said, sounding pious. ‘You never know… If the seventeenth is breech…’
‘She’ll sue if you’re not here with forceps?’
‘She’ll be entitled to. By the way, do you still think Slash is a good name for a girl snake?’
‘It’ll have to be Sasha,’ she said, still feeling winded.
‘Okay, how about she’s Sasha, also known as Slash. That makes her sound like a biker snake. Excellent. And the first baby out will have to be Noel. Then Merry. We’ll do Tinsel and Jingle and Donner and Vixen and… Who are the other guys?’
‘You want forty Christmas names?’
‘Forty-five,’ he said. Puppies and Pumpkin as well. ‘As Christmas deliverers, we rock, Dr McPherson. There’s no one to touch us. What a team.’
And then suddenly laughter faded. Craziness faded.
He took the flashlight from her suddenly shaky hands.
He gathered her into his arms and he kissed her.
She was lying on the grass outside a snake enclosure, being kissed.
She was being kissed by Ben Oaklander.
No. She was being kissed by Ben.
Christmas night. The stars were hanging low in the sky. They’d had five, no, six babies so far, counting snakes, and there were more coming. They’d had a truly extraordinary Christmas.
It was ending as it should end, with a kiss.
She’d told herself to be sensible. She’d told herself this was far too short a time frame to decide anything. She’d told herself to force her head to rule her heart, to not let this man near.
All of those were excellent decisions.
But one kiss for Christmas. She let herself have one, wondrous, drawn-out moment, she took as well as gave, she kissed as she wanted to be kissed.
But her head was handling it. Somehow her head was still in excellent decision mode. One kiss and she managed to pull away. But only just.
She didn’t look at him. She fumbled for her flashlight and checked the patient.
‘She’s doing fine,’ Ben murmured, running a finger down her cheek. Touching the corner of her mouth. Making her heart twist. ‘You want me to fetch a blanket so we can keep on supervising?’
‘Stay out here all night? While forty babies are born?’
While the night grew darker and Ben grew nearer. A rug and starlight and Ben.
‘No,’ she said, and she knew she sounded panicked but she couldn’t help it.
‘No?’
‘No.’ Somehow she shoved herself to her feet. He rose as well, and stood, too close. Too Ben.
‘You know I won’t hurt you, Jess,’ he said gently. Surely. Truly. ‘It would be my wish and honour to stop anything hurting you ever again. More than anything else in the world, I’d like to try.’
‘Ben…’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s too fast, too soon, you can’t trust me because I look like Nate, you can’t trust me because you don’t know me, you can’t love me because it’s not sensible. I know all those things and yet… I do seem to love you, Je
ss.’ Then, as she wavered, and she did waver, he put his hands on her shoulders, drew her to him and kissed her on the lips, a gentle, searching kiss that was a message all by itself.
‘Go to bed, Jess,’ he said gently. ‘I’m on duty tonight.’
‘What, snake watching?’
‘Until all my babies are delivered.’
‘You’re nuts.’
‘I didn’t think I was nuts until I met you,’ he said softly. ‘But I am now. Go to bed, and Merry Christmas.’
How was a girl to sleep after that?
She lay in the little bunkroom with Dusty asleep beside her, with Pokey snuffling in her basket under the bed. Some time during the afternoon she and Ben had decided night baby duty would be split into Pumpkin and family for Ben, puppies and family for Jess. So she supervised Pokey and she thought…she thought…
She just thought. A million thoughts were tumbling in her head.
All centred around Ben.
She lay, wide awake, for an hour. For two.
Go to asleep, she told herself. Be sensible. It’s been a weird, wonderful Christmas, time out of frame, a dream.
Dianne and Sally would be back tomorrow. The ferries would start running. They could leave.
Dream over.
The rest of the house was in darkness. Kathy and Mike and Pumpkin were obviously asleep, gloriously happy. Dusty was asleep. He was pretty happy as well. Pokey and her pups were asleep, and by the sound of Pokey’s snores there was contentment there too.
Which left her.
And Ben.
Ben would be trying to sleep on the settee on the veranda, she thought. The settee would be too short for him. He shouldn’t have given his room to Mike.
He had, and it was too late to offer to swap now. He might even be asleep as well.
Or counting snakes.
Surely he wouldn’t…
Once thought, she had to know. She slipped out of bed and edged the curtains aside.
Out in the dark, a sliver of light. By the snake pen. Definitely a flashlight.
He was still lying full length where she’d left him?
Welcoming babies.
Waiting for problems?
She should have given him a book on snakes for Christmas, she thought. The perils of snake-birth.
Here was another thought in the jumble. Dusty had given him two of his books. What had she given him?
Nothing.
She stood staring out into the night at the pinprick of light that was Ben’s flashlight.
Ben.
And then she thought, what had he ever been given?
A fortune by his father. He’d never touched it.
Blame from Nate. That must have been gut-wrenching. She remembered the scorn she’d heard in Nate’s voice the first time she’d met him. ‘My sainted brother.’
Ben as an eleven-year-old, being dragged to a strange country in order to punish his father. Ben, with a family that wasn’t a family at all. Ben finally finding a way to contact the little brother he loved, only to meet with hatred.
She thought of her own parents, her family, of tragedy but of the love and joy and tears and laughter they’d shared. To not have that…
To not give it…
The thought slammed home with savage certainty, leaving her breathless. To not give it because she was afraid it might be snatched away…
Snatched away from her, or snatched away from Ben?
He had far more courage than she did. He knew, far more than she, how much love hurt, yet here he was, looking at her as if she was all he ever asked in life.
To offer a love like that…
Love came in all forms.
He’d sorted this whole Christmas. He’d seen Kathy’s need. He’d arranged for Mike to be here. He’d taken the chance with Pumpkin’s birth—there were insurance issues, she knew, small risks, and it would have been simpler to decree Kathy go to the mainland to hospital.
But he’d taken those risks on. He’d cared for Kathy.
He’d given his bed to Mike.
He’d given up his Christmas, his precious isolation, so two elderly ladies could go to the funeral of a friend they loved.
He’d sat up through the night researching puppy birth. And now he was out in the dark, just watching. With all the patience in the world.
How could she ever compare him to Nate? Because they had the same smile?
They didn’t. The outward smile was the same, but Ben’s had love behind it; not just love for her but love for all he cared for.
Enough to form a family?
He didn’t need to form a family himself. It took two. If she could just find the courage.
For she had love to spare. She’d just packed it away. Allocated it to her mother and to Dusty and to no one else.
If she opened her heart…
Pokey snuffled in her sleep and she found herself smiling. ‘I guess even you,’ she said softly. ‘I have no idea how this will work but this love thing…why not take a leap of faith? For all of us?’
It was pretty stupid lying on the rough native grass counting baby snakes.
It was better than the alternative, which was lying on the too-small settee on the veranda, thinking of Jess.
She was leaving tomorrow, packing up, returning to England.
He could follow her.
But even if he did, how could he eradicate the fear in her eyes? Once back on her home turf, wouldn’t it just intensify? Back in her nice safe life, with no monetary considerations now, why would she ever think about him? Nate’s brother.
Snake baby number twenty-seven slithered into the world. Twenty-seven! This was getting ridiculous.
‘Have you needed forceps yet?’
He didn’t move. He couldn’t. She was right beside him, kneeling on the grass.
She was wearing those gorgeous pink pyjamas. He could feel them brush against his arm. His skin.
Jess.
‘No…no,’ he managed. ‘Textbook delivery so far.’
‘I brought out my tweezers, just in case.’
‘So you’re here in a professional capacity?’ It was hard to get his voice to work. She was so close.
She lay down beside him. Why hadn’t he got a rug? To lie down on the grass in those gorgeous pyjamas…
She was so close.
‘Nope,’ she said softly. ‘I’m here because I just checked the time. It’s a quarter to midnight. It’s still Christmas. I’m here in Santa capacity.’
‘Santa…’
‘I’ve been thinking…’ she said. ‘About everything you’ve said.’
‘About what in particular?’ All he wanted to do was turn and take her in his arms. Somehow he managed to keep himself still. Focus.
Baby snake twenty-eight was hardly noticed.
‘About loving me and what a gift of faith that is. And how amazing it is that you’ve offered it. And how a girl would have to be a coward not to accept that gift. There’s that saying…rather be a chicken than a dead hen. I was thinking dead hen was the only alternative. But a girl would be nuts to think that’s what would happen. For to love you… I just can’t see it.’
‘You can’t see you as a dead hen?’ he said, cautious now. Twenty-eight was starting to wriggle. He was running out of names. Cupid, he thought suddenly. Wasn’t that a Christmassy name? It felt Christmassy to him.
It felt perfect.
‘Ben…’
He let himself turn then, so he was face to face with her. Their noses were inches apart. He so wanted…
No. Be still. This was her step.
‘Mmm?’
‘I’ve decided that boys’ own adventure books do not a Christmas make,’ she whispered. ‘You gave me a gift that’ll change my life for ever. Nate’s money. And then you offered me another. Your love. In return you get two lousy books…’
‘They seem,’ he said cautiously, ‘to be excellent books. I’ve read the first story. Pirates and buried treasure and a mad and bad sea capt
ain.’
‘Ben?’
‘Yes?’
‘Would you like another gift?’
‘I don’t need…’
‘Try it on for size,’ she said, and she tugged his hand and pulled it up to her.
She was holding a plain gold ring. Before he could react, she slipped it onto the little finger of his left hand.
It slipped on as if it was meant to be there.
‘It’s my father’s wedding ring,’ she said. ‘I had it cut down. I’ve worn my mother’s engagement ring and my father’s wedding ring since they died. I loved my mum and dad very much and their love was big enough to share. So tonight I thought I should share. I thought I could just ask if you’d wear my father’s wedding ring until…until I can give you your own to take its place.’
There was enough in that statement to take a man’s breath away.
‘You’re saying…’ he said, not actually knowing what he was saying. ‘You’re saying…’
‘Is it proper to ask a guy to marry you?’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what the etiquette is anymore. But if it’s not proper, you could simply regard this ring as a gift and…and a hint.’
‘A hint that you might consider marrying me?’ He had to ask. It was important for a man to get his facts right.
‘If you’ll have me. And Dusty,’ she added hurriedly. ‘You’d have to have Dusty as well. And maybe even Pokey.’
‘This is getting big.’
‘Huge,’ she admitted. ‘Enormous. I don’t know how I have the temerity to ask.’
Twenty-nine. Twenty-nine would have to make up its own name, Ben thought. He was concentrating on other things.
‘So if it’s not proper for a woman to ask a man…’ he ventured.
‘Then of course I rescind.’
He hardly had any breath left to speak. They were lying face to face, under the starlit sky, and she’d just given him her father’s wedding ring.
It behoved a man to act fast.
‘Will you marry me?’ he asked before the moment had a chance to slip away.
‘Yes,’ she said, with no hesitation at all.
‘And live happily ever after?’
‘Yes.’
‘And trust me with your heart?’
‘Yes and yes and yes.’
And suddenly there was no more to say. There was no more to ask.
Dynamite Doc or Christmas Dad? Page 17
