Single Dad in Her Stocking

by Alison Roberts

  Tears were falling freely now. Max had come out of the place he’d been hiding in for most of his life. He was risking his heart. For the children who had come into his life but for her as well.

  Could Emma be that brave?

  ‘I love you too, Max. I need you. I want to stop hiding but I can only do that because you make me feel a lot braver than I really am. I want to be here for every one of those Christmases and...’

  And then Emma had to stop talking because Max was kissing her. There were tears mixed into that kiss. A bit of laughter too and a great deal of love. And then, with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, they went back into the house.

  To the family that was waiting for them both.

  EPILOGUE

  Two years later...

  IT WAS JUST as well that the Cunninghams’ manor house had so many bedrooms because it seemed like the house had to cater for more visitors every year.

  ‘Sorry, Maggie...’ Emma eyed the huge pile of tiny sausages that were having strips of bacon wrapped around them and secured with toothpicks. ‘I’ll have to start limiting how many of my relatives come over here from Italy for Christmas before it gets to be way too much work.’ She went to the sink to wash her hands so that she could start helping with the preparations. ‘I wonder what they’ll think of these pigs in blankets? I tried translating the idea but my nonna looked very dubious.’

  Maggie laughed. ‘I’m sure she’ll love them. And I love how full the house is and how many children we’ve got running around. I loved that we had the feast of the seven fishes last night too. And that your mum brought your family’s gorgeous nativity scene. Ruth’s loving it all as well. She was so impressed with your star making class yesterday.’

  It was Emma’s turn to laugh. ‘We’ve got so many wonky stars now, I think I’ll have to make a string to put across the ceiling next year or we won’t have room for all the other decorations on our tree.’

  ‘Ruth will help with that. She says her job is like she’s running her own little school and the best bit is that she gets to take her wee Joseph to work with her.’

  Emma peered out of the window as she dried her hands. Ruth’s two-year-old son was as much a part of the crowd of excited children outside as her Italian nieces and nephews.

  ‘Ben’s got him in the wheelbarrow,’ she said. ‘Along with Alice. I hope he can cope with both of them. They’re a bit like twins, aren’t they? There’s six months between them but they’re inseparable.’

  ‘Maybe it’s because we celebrate Joe’s half-birthday so it doesn’t get lost in Christmas. Tilly is convinced they’re both the same age.’ Maggie started a new row of the wrapped sausages on the oven tray. ‘Is Ruth out there supervising?’

  ‘Ruth and Max.’ Emma was still looking out of the window. ‘They look like they’ve got everything under control for the moment. Pirate’s out there too but he’s probably as eager as everyone to get back inside. What made us decide that the kids could only open their stockings before breakfast and we’d do the gifts under the tree before dinner?’

  ‘Oh...that reminds me. Ben was worried about where his little tree was. You know, the one he brought with him when he first arrived and that we save all the tiniest decorations for?’

  ‘I put it up high to keep it safe,’ Emma said. ‘The toddlers were getting into everything. It’s a circus around here at the moment.’

  But she was loving it. Every moment of it. Because every day brought so much love, along with something new and special into her life. Today one of the special things was that this was the first Christmas for the newest member of the Cunningham clan. Emma forgot that she was about to help Maggie create the army of pigs in blankets. Instead, she walked towards the pram parked on the other side of the Aga stove, to gaze at her four-month-old daughter. Hannah had been named after her paternal grandmother and was currently dressed in the cutest stretchy suit ever—a tiny green elf outfit, right down to booties with curly toes and a green and red hat. She was awake in her pram but not crying and when she saw her mother her little face lit up with the widest smile and she held out her arms to be picked up.

  The kitchen door opened as Emma gathered her baby into her arms. Max’s face lit up with the same kind of joy as Hannah’s and he went straight to his wife and daughter to wrap his arms around both of them.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ he asked Maggie.

  Maggie’s face softened with a smile that made Max and Emma share a knowing glance. They suspected that something might be going on there and this looked like another clue.

  ‘He’s upstairs, putting on that Santa suit so he can distribute the presents. Shall I go and see if he’s ready?’

  ‘Good idea.’ Max nodded. ‘I’m not sure how long Ruth will manage to keep the troops out of the way. I don’t think we’ll be getting any kind of white Christmas this year but it’s pretty cold out there.’

  He waited until Maggie had gone out of the kitchen before he bent his head to kiss Emma—a slow, tender kiss that tapped into everything she loved so much about her husband and about their life together which was only getting better with every passing month. How had they not known, when they’d first met all those years ago, that they were so perfect for each other? That they could meet every challenge in life as long as they faced it together?

  ‘Champagne?’ he asked. ‘I do believe it’s one of those Christmas rules.’

  ‘After the presents.’ She smiled. ‘As the other half of Upper Barnsley’s general practice, I think I have a duty to cover any calls until your dad has changed out of his Santa suit.’

  ‘I guess I’ll wait too, then—so we can share that first toast to a happy Christmas.’

  ‘It’s already happy.’ Emma smiled up at Max. ‘I don’t think it could be any happier.’

  Except it could.

  The kitchen door opened again and a stream of small children came rushing in.

  ‘Mummy... Daddy...’ Six-year-old Tilly was bursting with excitement. ‘You’ve got to come... Father Christmas is here...’

  Ben was by her side. He and Max exchanged a grin and Emma knew what that was about. As the oldest child, Ben was now in on the secret—that it was the family that made the magic happen at Christmas time but that was fine by him. He knew how important a part of this family he was and he was going to help make that magic happen from now on.

  This Christmas was going to be the best yet.

  Until next time, of course...

  * * *

  If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Alison Roberts

  Melting the Trauma Doc’s Heart

  Dr. Right for the Single Mom

  Pregnant with Her Best Friend’s Baby

  Resisting Her Rescue Doc

  All available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal by Louisa George.

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  A Puppy and a Christmas Proposal

  by Louisa George

  CHAPTER ONE

  ‘DAMN SNOW. THE weather forecast said this Arctic vortex should have ended by today.’

  Alex Norton locked Oakdale Medical Centre’s front door and turned up his coat collar against the flurries that were now falling thick and fast, covering Oakdale village in a glistening white blanket. Winter had arrived with a vengeance with Christmas hot on its tail. And all he had to do was keep sane through the madness of the next month and then he’d be able to breathe properly again.

 
All? With the memories of Christmases past haunting him at every turn in this tiny claustrophobic village he’d be lucky if he stayed sane until the end of next week.

  ‘Hasn’t snowed this much in December for years.’ His colleague and business partner Dr Joe Thompson grinned as he fell into step with him up the path towards the main street. ‘Going to be a white Christmas, do you think?’

  White? Blue? Yellow with orange spots? Alex didn’t rightly care what colour Christmas was going to be, but he managed a half-decent, at least polite, reply. ‘Who knows? It’s three weeks away. This will all be murky slush before you can blink.’

  Joe’s eyes narrowed. ‘I hope not. I promised to take Katy tobogganing tomorrow.’

  Alex checked himself. Okay, so perhaps murky slush wasn’t polite. Not everyone disliked Christmas, especially not the father of a pre-teen girl. Maybe Christmas might actually be fun with a kid around. As if he’d ever know. ‘Oh, yes. First day of your holidays. Have fun. See you on the other side of New Year.’

  ‘I’m grateful you’ve agreed to stay here to cover the clinic for us. Rose is looking forward to her first Oakdale Christmas and Katy’s beside herself with excitement about the New Year’s skiing holiday. For the first time in years I’m going to be able to get to all the school things they have at the end of term; the kids’ disco, the Nativity... And she’s going to love the pantomime in Lancaster next week.’ Judging by the shine in Joe’s eyes he was fairly keen about it all too. Which, as far as Alex was concerned, was a long time coming. Joe had been through a rough few years and it was good to see him smile. He figured Joe’s new partner Rose had a lot to do with that too. ‘It’ll be good to be able to enjoy it all as a family without worrying about rushing back for work.’

  ‘You deserve the time off. Happy to do it.’ With a bit of luck he could bury himself in his job and forget it was the time of year that everyone seemed to go just a little bit crazy. Alex hated December. He hated Christmas. He hated the reminders of everything he’d lost, and at this time of year he was usually on holiday somewhere far away trying to drink away the memories.

  But there would be no holiday this year; their other practice partner, Jenny, was off sick with a nasty leg fracture and their new partner wasn’t starting until next week, and with Joe having pre-booked leave right through December there hadn’t been anyone to step up but Alex.

  Joe stopped as they reached the turn-off that led up the hill to his house. ‘Coming to the carol concert later?’

  ‘No. Not my idea of fun.’

  ‘Good job you don’t have kids, mate. You’d go mad this time of year with all the Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeers going on. Katy’s been practising and let’s just say that, although I love my daughter to pieces, even I have to admit she does not have the voice of an angel.’ Joe laughed. ‘Seriously, you should come.’

  ‘With that recommendation?’ Alex ignored the stab in his chest. It wasn’t just a good job he didn’t have kids; it was a physical impossibility. He dug his hands further into his coat pockets. ‘No. I’m fine. A warm fire and a cold beer beckon.’

  ‘The pub? Friday band night?’

  ‘No. I’d like to keep my eardrums intact into old age. I’m just heading home. Just me, and not a red-nosed reindeer in sight.’

  ‘Okay. So basically it’s “Bah, humbug” and all that?’

  ‘Yeah. Something like that.’ Joe clearly wasn’t getting the ‘don’t push it’ vibe Alex was sending him. ‘Enjoy the concert.’

  ‘I’ll try...’ Joe grinned and waved his phone earbuds ‘...not to listen too hard.’

  Then it was just Alex and the crunch of fresh snow as he stalked across the empty village square. Each footstep a beat...warm...fire...cold...beer... Warm...fire. Cold...beer. Nothing better after a busy work week.

  Despite the streetlights it was dark and fresh and he wished he’d dressed more suitably for a blizzard. Every shopfront had some sort of festive display or Nativity scene and someone had strung bunting made out of silver stars zigzagging from the post office to the butcher’s and over to the newsagent’s. There was a small and slightly gravelly snowman outside the little supermarket, its carrot nose lying on the snow-covered ground. Alex picked it up, stuck it back onto the large white head and tightened the woolly scarf round the join between head and body. ‘There you go, mate, whole again.’

  He tried hard not to think how that might feel. But at least he’d fixed the snowman. See? What was that if it wasn’t embracing the Christmas spirit? Bah, humbug, indeed.

  He made his way down the icy path towards the opposite end of the village to where Joe was heading, to the house he’d grown up in, his thoughts tumbling between the usual tumult of GP life and that one Christmas eight years ago when his life had changed for ever.

  He tried to push the memories away but there was something about those Nativity scenes that seemed to lock them in his head; the doctor’s office decorated in tinsel for festive fun, diametrically opposed to the hot panic that had consumed him. The phone call. Tears. So many tears. And then navigating an entirely different landscape from the future he’d been planning.

  From somewhere he heard a little whine, then an excited yelp tugged him back to today, the past receding a little. Behind him was a fluffy bundle of fur on four legs. Not a red-nosed reindeer but a dog...a puppy to be exact. It stopped walking when he did. When he started again it let out another yelp then bounded through the drifts and caught him up, tangling between his legs.

  Huffing out a breath, Alex disentangled himself from the pup. Along with huge soppy eyes it had a long snout, big paws completely out of whack with its body and a tail that stood up like a spike. Cute. If you were the dog-loving type. Alex wasn’t. Especially when they hindered your journey home after a long day looking after particularly difficult patients. He stepped over the mutt. ‘Whoa, puppy. It’s too slippery out here to be doing that.’

  It didn’t move. ‘Go.’

  Nah. Nothing. He picked it up, turned it around and plopped it back onto the snow, hoping it would return to wherever it had come from, then he set off in the direction of home. Warm fire. Cold beer. Warm fire. Cold beer.

  Another yelp. A little bark. Did that one sound like, Hey, Mr Bah Humbug, I’m freezing?

  ‘Look, stop following me. Go home, boy...or girl...’ He couldn’t tell from this distance. But the puppy just tipped its head to one side and looked at him. ‘Go. Shoo.’

  Pointy ears pricked. Well, one did; the right ear had a floppy fold. One up, one bent.

  Not cute at all. Really. Not cute.

  And lost. He looked at the trail of puppy paw prints in the snow and sighed as he bent down. ‘Okay, okay. Let’s have a look at you.’

  No collar. Great. A boy pup. And very happy to be given attention. ‘Someone, somewhere is going to be missing you. How about you turn right around and go back where you came from?’ But he couldn’t help sinking his fingers in the fur at the back of the pup’s neck and giving him a good scratch. The puppy nuzzled against his arm and something in Alex’s chest squeezed.

  No. ‘I am not going to be bamboozled by big soppy brown eyes and cold paws.’

  No. Nope. No way. Niet.

  As soon as this silly season was over he was booking a holiday. A climbing holiday perhaps where he could put all his energy into something physical. A holiday fling maybe? That could be good respite too. A something with someone who didn’t want for ever. He noticed his fingers were still fur-deep and his palm was wet with over-enthusiastic licks. It actually felt kind of nice. When was the last time he’d made a meaningful connection?

  He didn’t want to think about that, because making connections deeper than the ten-minute appointments with his patients was something he avoided at all costs. Dragging his hand away from the fur ball, he tried to sound authoritarian. ‘Don’t go getting attached to me. Off you go.’

  He s
tarted to walk away. Don’t look back. Don’t look back. Words he’d repeated over and over to himself so many times in his life; in the darkest times, when he’d faced an uncertain future, he’d known that looking back at all those unfulfilled plans he’d made would have given him no solace at all.

  But the puppy ran along next to him, sinking deep into the snow, then pushing with those huge paws and jumping out and into the next drift. ‘A puppy with authority issues. I see. Just my luck, right? Look, mate, this isn’t going to work. I’m just not that into you.’

  The wind picked up as he reached his cottage, swirling snowflakes faster and thicker. He slid the key into the lock and pushed through into the cold and dark, pausing for a moment to stamp the snow from his boots. Wishing he’d left either a light or central heating on, he flicked on a switch, flooding the hallway in a soft cream glow, and caught a spiky tail disappearing into his kitchen. ‘What? Hey! Houdini! You don’t live here.’

  The damned thing had snuck in with him and was now, he discovered as he rounded the corner into his large kitchen-dining room, lying on his grandparents’ heirloom rug in front of the dining table, chewing on Alex’s best, top-of-the-range and shipped-all-the-way-from-the-States climbing shoes.

  ‘Hey! Hey! No! They cost a fortune! Let go.’ A throaty, playful growl came from the dog as Alex took hold of his shoe and tried to tug it out of its mouth. ‘I only just bought them. I’ve only worn them once.’

  But the dog stuck his bottom in the air and laid his enormous paws out in front and kept on tugging back, that tail wagging back and forth like a metronome on heat.

  ‘This is not a game.’ Alex needed to distract it. ‘Food? What could you have? Water? Yes. Water.’

  He filled an old porcelain Willow Pattern bowl that had belonged to his grandmother and put it on the floor, then microwaved the sausages he’d planned to eat for dinner and chopped them up. ‘Your last supper, matey. Then you’re back out there.’