Christmas at Waratah Bay (16 page)

And, as if on cue the screen door slammed open. Doug stood in the doorway, wild eyed.

“It’s coming,” he gasped. “It’s coming now. Sarah, Max . . . It’s so fast. I thought . . . Katie thought . . . But it’s just coming. She says there’s no time to get her to hospital, it’s coming now.”

“Then, it’s just lucky I’m a nurse,” Sarah said, taking a deep breath and turning to face Doug with a reassuring smile. “I might make a good model, but right now a nurse is what you need, and a nurse is what you have. But to be honest, I’m not a midwife so back-up would be good. Max, ring for an ambulance. Let’s see if we can get some help, but meanwhile boil the kettle and put some towels in the tumble drier to warm. Then . . . ’

“Then what?” Max said, faintly.

“Then keep your eye on three kids, five dogs and Harold and don’t let anyone do anything interesting.” She squared her shoulders. “Okay, Doug, let’s go meet your Christmas baby.”

*

Christmas had always
been about drama. So, what was new, Max wondered as he rang to check on the whereabouts of the ambulance for the third time.

An hour! They would have had time to get Katie to the hospital, he thought grimly, but she’d been so sure it was coming,
now
. But
now
was stretching out.
Now
had included time for him to give the kids tea—did left over Bigfoot and a handful of lollies count as dinner? But who was caring? It had been an excellent Christmas for kids, and they were exhausted. He put them to bed and read them a story and they were asleep before Ruby the Rhinoceros’s adventures came to an end.

Still no ambulance.

“There’s been a car crash up north,” the operator told him apologetically when he rang again. “Are you sure you can’t get her here?”

He knocked on Katie’s bedroom door and explained what was happening, but Katie told the world in no uncertain terms that this baby was coming
now
and no baby of hers was coming in the back of a car and “Please, kill me now . . . ”

“It’s just a long second stage,” Sarah told him, still brightly confident—though he surely detected a trace of bravado behind the smile? “Did you know she’s come prepared for a home birth? She even packed a stethoscope. The baby’s heartbeat is nice and strong; there’s no sign of distress. If I was . . . If I was worried I’d have you pick her up and dump her in the truck, like it or not, but honestly, Max, she’s doing well. And, as she says, any minute. How’s . . . how’s Harold?”

“Weaker.”

“Stay with him,” she said, and there was nothing more he could do for Katie. He had to trust Sarah’s nursing skills.

He did. He trusted Sarah.

How had she turned out as Sarah?

He went back out to the veranda. Was it his imagination or was Harold finding it even harder to breathe? Bring on the ambulance, he thought. If it wasn’t needed for Katie, it’d be needed for Harold.

But then . . . was there any point taking Harold back to hospital? He was lying on the veranda of the house he’d lived in and loved for most of his life. He was gazing out at the last rays of the setting sun. Not such a bad place to be.

Not such a bad place to die?

He sat down beside him and the old man reached out and gripped his hand.

“There’s going to be a baby.”

“Any minute,” he said, morosely. “More kids.”

“There should be more kids on this place.” He fell silent for a while and Max thought he’d dozed off, but then he spoke again.

“That’s what I wanted. Kids and mess and noise and chaos. Family. I never got it. Lorissa hated it here, couldn’t wait to be shot of the place, and her girls were the same. She used me, but I was too stupid to see it. When she met that American fella’ I didn’t see her for dust, and the girls were gone, too. Couldn’t see ’em for dust.”

“Didn’t Sarah love it?”

“Sarah?” He turned with an effort and looked at Max, and his face softened. “Sarah’s great. My shining star and I could do nothing for her. Nothing. I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. Max, will you look out for her? I can’t, I’ve never been allowed . . . ”

But that was as far as he could get. Even that much talking had exhausted him. His grip on Max’s hand tightened though, and Max’s thoughts, whirling around the whys and wherefores of Sarah, focused back on his friend. Breathing was so hard. He could feel the fear.

“Don’t try and talk.”

“I don’t . . . want to go back to hospital.”

“You won’t have to. If you agree, you can stay here. We’ll get a nurse.”

“Sarah . . . ”

“Sarah has to leave.”

“She belongs here more than . . . More than . . . ” But his last word was a gasp, and he couldn’t go on. He closed his eyes.

The oldest of his dogs, Paddy, rose and nosed the old man’s hand and whined, then climbed onto the bed with him. Harold was a farmer. Dogs were dogs, and they were treated well, but climbing on beds was something farm dogs didn’t do.

Regardless, Harold’s hand lifted now and he stroked his old mate’s back.

“Paddy,” he whispered. “Paddy, Tip, Sarah, Max . . . And a baby on the way. It’s almost like family. It’s all I want, Max. Everything I have is right here.”

*

For all her
bravado, it was as much as Sarah could do to stay calm. She’d agreed that putting Katie into the car and driving her was risky; with the baby so close, the chance the baby would be born on the roadside was high. And yet . . . she was a nurse with only basic training. She wasn’t a midwife. How long had second stage lasted? If the baby didn’t appear now . . .

It was all she could do to smile and look confident and not yell to Max to throw a mattress in the back of the truck and take over. But Katie was clinging to her—and besides, Max was caring for Harold and they all wanted Harold to have this night, and she should be on the veranda too . . . and this night was doing her head in.

And then, just as she decided to bail, because she had enough nursing experience to know that second stage had lasted long enough and she was taking no risks, the truck was the safest course, she heard the blessed sound of sirens.

Ambulance.

“Here comes the cavalry,” she told Katie, and Katie grabbed Doug’s hand in a death grip and pushed through the next contraction and gasped.

“Who needs the cavalry, when we have you and Max and this place,” she groaned. “You two . . . You’ve made our Christmas awesome and . . . oh . . . oh . . . ”

And two minutes later, just as two burly paramedics burst through the door, one scrap of a tiny boy entered the world.

A Christmas baby . . .

And, as Sarah handed him over to his awed and joyful parents, she looked down and felt her heart swell.

Even if she had to leave . . . even
when
she had to leave . . . this Christmas would stay with her forever. It was Harold’s last Christmas. It was a miracle Christmas.

She’d fallen in love this Christmas, she thought, and even if things with her and with Max were impossible . . . this Christmas would stay with her forever.

*

He sat with
Harold and he listened to the sounds from inside with not a small sense of foreboding. It sounded like murder—or possibly ten murders.

“What do you reckon?” Harold muttered and Max said: “I wish the ambulance would get here,” and Harold struggled to nod his agreement.

Max looked at his friend and thought he very much wanted the ambulance to get here and it wasn’t just for Katie.

“Your breathing’s getting harder,” he told Harold. “Should we take you back to hospital?”

“Don’t you dare,” Harold managed and when the ambulance finally arrived, he waved the paramedics away as if they were annoying buzz flies.

They headed inside. Harold went back to breathing, each breath more labored than the last.

The noises from inside settled.

What a Christmas, Max thought. What a . . .

And then, the screen door opened.

He turned and it was Sarah, carrying a bundle. Smiling and smiling.

“I’ve borrowed him,” she murmured. “I have him for two minutes, but Katie wanted him introduced. The ambulance is taking her into hospital to be checked. I’m not a midwife; I don’t have the skills to be sure but honestly, she seems great, the baby’s perfect and they’re saying she’ll be home again by morning. But, before he leaves, he’s here to meet you. Harold, this is Harry. He’s named because Katie says this has been the best Christmas ever and Harold, it’s thanks to you. Max, meet your new nephew. Harold, here’s your final Christmas gift, a baby named just for you.”

And, she knelt by Harold’s makeshift bed and tugged back a corner or the warmed towels so Harold could see the tiny, wrinkled face of his namesake.

Harold turned to see, a Herculean effort, and his old face crumpled into an echo of a smile.

“A baby,” he whispered. “Harry. After me. Isn’t that bloody perfect. The best Christmas . . . Family . . . ”

And then, he gasped and his eyes turned inward.

“No.” Sarah handed Max the baby and took Harold into her arms. “Harold, love, no . . . ”

But there was no denying what was coming. They called out to the paramedics. The guys did what they could. Sarah did what she could—but five minutes later, he was gone.

*

Midnight.

The dramas of the day were ended. Doug and the littlies were asleep. Katie and her baby were tucked up in Waratah Bay hospital for the night—but she’d be back by morning. “I want to be home,” she’d said, and Max had hugged her and said, “We want you to be home.”

For he wanted her to be home. She was his little sister and Harry was his nephew. He . . . needed them?

He needed family. How many years had it taken him to acknowledge that?

The ambulance had been and gone and then come again for Harold—or rather for the husk of Harold. The whispers of the old farmer stayed behind, a gentle, benign ghost. His last words echoed and echoed.

“The best Christmas . . . Family.”

Sarah had been inside for an hour now, cleaning up after the drama of the birth, after the drama of the day. He’d wanted to help but she’d sent him outside.