Harlequin Medical Romance December 2015, Box Set 1 of 2 (32 page)

‘You're the dear, dear man who saved our daughter. Snake bite. Snake bite! And us not even knowing. Of all the places... And you saved her. Putting herself at such risk... We knew she shouldn't leave Sydney. Never again, that's what we said, Charles, isn't it? Never again. And what about her blood sugars? What if she'd died out here? I don't know how we can ever...'

Enough. He was enveloped in silk and gold and crimson and he had a feeling if he didn't take a stand now he'd stay enveloped for Christmas. He put his hands on her silk shoulders and put her firmly away from him.

‘Mrs Hargreaves, I'm not sure what Polly's told you, but your daughter's made a very good job of saving herself.' He said it strongly, forcibly, because a glance at Polly said that this was important. Her face had sort of...crumpled?

Never again
, her mother had said. What sort of strength had it taken to tear herself from these two? But she'd voluntarily brought them back—so he and Ruby could have Christmas.

‘Polly's the strongest woman I know,' he continued, and he reached out and took Polly's hand. It seemed natural. It also seemed important and Polly's hand clung to his and he thought: he was right. These two were like bulldozers, and their daughter stood a good chance of being crushed by their force.

‘But don't accept my word for it,' he continued. ‘The whole Valley agrees. Polly came to this town as the fill-in doctor. She saved two lives the day she arrived. She looks after her own health as well as everyone else's, and she spreads laughter and light wherever she goes. You must have brought her up to be a fiercely independent woman. Her strength is awesome and the whole of Wombat Valley is grateful for it.'

They were taken aback. They stared at him, nonplussed, and then they stared at Polly. Really stared. As if they were seeing her for the first time?

‘She has diabetes,' Olivia faltered and Hugo nodded.

‘We have three kids with Type One diabetes in the Valley. Polly's already met one of them. Susy's a rebellious thirteen-year-old and Polly knows just what to say. If Susy can get the same control Polly has, if she can make it an aside to her life as Polly has...well, I'm thinking Susy's parents will be as content and as proud as you must be.'

And it sucked the wind right out of their sails. It seemed they'd come to rescue and protect their daughter, but their daughter was standing hand in hand with Hugo and she was smiling. She had no need of rescue and her armour was reforming while he watched.

‘Polly said... Polly said you might bring a snowman.' Until now, Ruby had been silent. She was on the far side of Hugo, quietly listening. Quietly gathering the courage to speak. ‘Polly says you make Christmas exciting.'

And it was exactly the right thing to say. Hugo's arm came around Polly. She leaned into him as her parents shifted focus.

From Polly to Ruby. From Polly to Christmas. He felt Polly sag a little, and he knew it was relief. Somehow energy had been channelled from saving Polly to saving Christmas.

Olivia looked down at the little girl for a long minute, and then she beamed.

‘So you're Ruby.'

‘Yes,' Ruby said shyly.

‘Pollyanna said you wanted to go to the beach for Christmas.'

‘We did,' Ruby told her. ‘But now... Uncle Hugo and I want to stay with Polly.'

There was a sharp glance at that, a fast reassessment. Hugo expected Polly to tug away, but she didn't. Which was a statement all by itself?

‘That's lovely,' Olivia said after a moment's pause. ‘Can we stay too?'

‘Yes,' Ruby said and smiled and Polly smiled too.

‘We have spare bedrooms,' Polly said and Hugo thought
we?

Better and better.

‘Then I guess we need to get these choppers unloaded so the pilots can get back to Sydney for their own Christmas,' Polly's father said, moving into organisational mode. ‘Can we organise a truck, Dr Denver?'

‘A truck?'

‘For the Christmas equipment my wife thought necessary.' Charles gave an apologetic smile. ‘My wife never travels light.'

‘Excellent,' Polly said and moved to hug her parents. ‘Mum, Dad, I love you guys. Ruby, welcome to my parents. My parents are awesome.'

* * *

At two in
the morning Hugo finally had time to sink onto the veranda steps and assess what had happened over the last few hours.

Polly's parents were overwhelming, overbearing, and they loved Polly to distraction. He could see why she'd run from them. They were generous to the point of absurdity and he could see why she loved them back.

They were also used to servants.

Right now he'd never been more physically exhausted in his life. Polly, on the other hand, didn't seem the least exhausted. She was happily arranging potted palms around a cabana.

There was now a beach where his yard used to be.

The centrepiece was a prefabricated pool it had taken them the night to construct. They'd started the moment Ruby had gone to bed. That had been six hours ago—six hours of sheer physical work. Because it wasn't just a pool. The packaging described it as
A Beach In Your Backyard
, and it was designed to be just that.

A motor came with the pool, with baffles that made waves run from one side to another. Hugo had shovelled a pile of sand—almost a truckload had emerged from the chopper—to lie beside it. A ramp ran up the side—it could be removed to keep the pool child-proof and safe. A lifebuoy hung to the side. Seashells were strewn artistically around. Polly had done the strewing, making him pause to admire her handiwork. There were also sun umbrellas, deckchairs and a tiny palm-covered cabana.

‘Because Christmas isn't just for children,' Olivia had decreed as she'd handed over a sheaf of instructions and headed to bed herself. ‘There needs to be somewhere to store the makings of martinis. And margaritas. Polly loves margaritas but she's only allowed to have one.'

His eyes had met Polly's at that and laughter had flashed between them, silent but so strong it was like a physical link.

‘Don't say a word,' Polly had said direfully and he hadn't.

Charles had helped for the first hour but at the first sign of a blister he, too, had retired. Since then Hugo and Polly had laboured non-stop.

For Ruby's joy was in front of them. In the hope of Ruby's joy he'd even allowed Polly to override his own concerns.

‘I want to play Santa as much as you do,' she'd decreed when he'd tried to send her to bed. ‘If you fuss, Hugo Denver, I'll throw a tantrum big enough to be heard in Sydney.'

So they'd worked side by side, by torchlight and by the help of a fortuitous full moon. It was hard. It was fun. It was...wonderful.

Six hours of working with Polly was somehow settling things. There were promises being made, unspoken yet—it was much too soon—but working side by side felt right.

It was a promise of things to come? The disintegration of the walls of two different traps?

Whatever it was, now he had a beach in his front garden.

‘We've taken over.' Polly had arranged her last palm to her satisfaction. Now she settled onto the step beside him and gazed at the scene before them in satisfaction. ‘Goodness, Hugo, are you sure you want us here?'

For answer he reached out and took her grimy and blistered hand. It matched his grimy and blistered hand. He didn't reply. He simply held and the silence settled around them with peace and with love.

They didn't need to say a thing.

‘They didn't bring buckets and spades and surfboards,' Hugo said at last, and Polly cracked a guilty grin.

‘I checked the back of your wardrobe,' she admitted. ‘Hugo, it pains me to admit it but I'm a Christmas snooper from way back. Let me tell you that you're very bad at hiding. The shapes of buckets and spades and surfboards take skill to be hidden and the back of your wardrobe is chicken feed in the hiding stakes.'

‘So you told your parents what not to bring?'

‘I told them what I thought the bumpy presents were. Mum might be over the top, but she never tries to outshine anyone.'

‘Really?'

She giggled. ‘Well, she never tries but sometimes she's very, very trying.' She hesitated. ‘Hugo, I try not to,' she confessed, ‘but I love them.'

‘They're hard not to love.'

‘You wait until they decide to decorate your bedroom to look like a Manhattan chic hotel...'

‘They wouldn't.'

‘Only if they love you.' She sighed. ‘And they'll probably make you do the painting. Mum'll drink martinis and boss you as you paint. Love doesn't get boundaries.'

‘It doesn't, does it?' he said softly and his hold on her hand tightened. ‘Polly...'

‘Hey, I didn't mean anything by that,' she said hurriedly, as if it was important that she said it. ‘I wasn't hinting...'

‘You don't need to hint.' He hesitated a moment more, but why not say it? It was all around them anyway.

‘Polly, I'm falling in love with you,' he said softly. ‘I may have already mentioned it but I'll mention it again now. I have so much baggage I'm practically drowning in it but...'

‘By baggage do you mean Ruby?' She sounded incensed.

‘I can't leave her.'

‘I'd never expect you to. But you think you have baggage! I have Mum and Dad and I've already figured there's no use hiding from them. Wherever I am, they'll be hovering. The term “helicopter parents” takes on a whole new meaning when you're talking about my parents.'

‘They love you. They worry.'

‘Which infuriates me. It makes me claustrophobic.'

‘Are you feeling claustrophobic now?'

‘I guess I'm not.' She smiled tentatively. ‘You seem to have set new boundaries. They're recalibrating their position but they won't stop worrying.'

‘Maybe it's natural.' His hand held hers, gently massaging her fingers. He wanted her so much, and yet he had to say it. There was no space here for anything but truth. ‘Polly, I'd worry too.'

She turned and looked at him, square-on. ‘When would you worry?'

‘If you let me close. As close as I want to be. And Polly, this Valley constricts your life.'

‘Like my diabetes.'

‘I guess...'

There was another long silence. The night seemed to be holding its breath. There was so much behind the silence, so much it was too soon to say or even think, and yet it was undeniably there.

‘If you worried,' she said at last, ‘then I might react with anger. I've had enough worry to last me a lifetime.'

‘So you might never worry about me?'

He'd been running the hose into the pool. It was now almost full. The moonlight was glimmering on its surface. A wombat had been snuffling in the undergrowth as they worked. Now it made its way stealthily up the ramp and stared at the water in astonishment. It bent its head and tentatively tasted.

‘Happy Christmas, Wombat,' Hugo whispered and Polly's hand tightened in his and she smiled.

‘It is a happy Christmas. And Hugo, okay, maybe I would worry. Maybe I already do worry. You're a surgeon with amazing skills. You've uprooted yourself, buried yourself...'

‘Is this what this is? Burying myself?'

She looked out again, at the pool, at the wombat, at the lights of the little hospital and at the moon hanging low over the valley. ‘Maybe not,' she whispered. ‘But I would still worry. And you'd have the right to tell me it's none of my business.'

‘We're moving forward,' he said gently. ‘Into places I hardly dare hope...'

‘Me too,' she whispered. ‘But maybe we're allowed to hope? Maybe we even have grounds for hoping?'

‘Maybe we're stretching our boundaries,' he said softly. ‘Figuring they can be stretched. Figuring how to see them as challenges and not chains.'

‘I thought I was trapped by family,' she whispered. ‘And you're trapped with family too. Maybe the way not to feel trapped is...to combine?'

‘Polly...'

‘Hush for now,' she whispered. ‘Think about it. Just know that I'm thinking about it all the time.'

And it was enough, for now. They sat on, in silence, the stillness of the night enveloping them. It was too soon, too fast, there were too many things ahead of them to even think this could be a beginning, but somehow hope was all around them.

‘It's almost full,' Polly ventured at last, almost inconsequentially. ‘The pool...'

‘That's why I'll stay sitting out here. To turn the hose off.'

‘Really? I thought you were sitting because you're too exhausted to move?'

He grinned, and then he kissed her because it seemed okay. No, it seemed more than okay. No touching?
Ha!
Rules were made to be broken. The kiss was long and lingering, insidious in its sweetness and an affirmation of the future all by itself.

And then the first splash of water hit the ground and if a flooded garden was to be avoided they had to pull apart. So Hugo went to turn off the tap while Polly looked at the water, and looked up at the stars and made a decision.

‘You should always trial Christmas gifts before the day,' she said as he returned to her. ‘What if it's faulty?'

‘The wombat already tried it.'

‘And then he waddled away. What if he thought there was something wrong? He could hardly have reported it.'

‘So you're suggesting...what?'

‘A swim,' she said promptly. ‘Just to make sure.'

‘Me?'

‘Both of us. It'd be kind of cool.'

‘This water comes straight from the creek. It hasn't had any warmth from the sun yet. You can bet it'll be cool.'

‘Chicken.' She rose. ‘I'm putting on my bikini.'

‘You have a bikini?'

‘With polka dots. You want to see?'