Twins for Christmas (6 page)

‘S
O YOU’LL MAKE SURE
 
everything in the bus is kept safe? Particularly those Christmas presents?’

‘I’m onto it,’ the young policeman assured Rory. He unclipped the radio from the shoulder strap of his protectivevest. ‘You just leave it with me.’

Knowing that the gifts intended for the children would eventually reach their destination was satisfying.

So was discovering that he’d been right about the extent of Mary Ballantyne’s injuries and that it wouldn’t be long before she could be discharged.

Braden Foster, who was treating Mary now, had also been able to give a report on Michael’s surgery, and the news was good.

‘He’ll make it,’ Braden had said. ‘Thanks to you.’

‘It was a team effort,’ Rory had responded.

Like the way the staff were currently dealing with the overcrowded department. Efficiently and cheerfully. Judy was still here—and hadn’t someone said she was supposed to go off duty some time ago? If he was still head of department here he would be proud of them all.

Even the orderly, who was wearing a pair of red felt reindeer horns on his head as he came past with an empty wheelchair.

‘Could I borrow that?’

‘Sure. Merry Christmas, Doc.’

‘You, too.’ Rory pushed the wheelchair towards the cubicles. He had one more request to honour, and then he was going to do something for himself.

Or rather for Kate.

For both of them, perhaps.

Things were starting to clear in his head. He was being given an opportunity here to repay Kate for what she had given him—albeit unwittingly. He could make life easier for her. Support her.

He wouldn’t have chosen to become a father, but it was happening—and, dammit, if he was going to be a father he was going to be the best he could possibly be.

Pulling back the curtain, he found Kate helping Florence to sit up.

‘Just take things easy,’ she warned her patient. ‘You’ve had a bump on the head and you’ve been lying down for quite a while. You might well find you’re a bit dizzy if you try and get on your feet too quickly.’

‘Mary’s fine,’ Rory informed Florence. ‘She’s about to have a small blood vessel in her nose cauterised, and when the bleeding’s definitely stopped the fracture will need strap ping. She’d like to talk to you.’ He smiled as he deftly manoeuvred the wheelchair into the cubicle. ‘Your chariot, ma’am.’

‘I don’t need that.’ Florence slid her not in considerable weight onto her feet. Seconds later she paled and clutched Kate’s arm.

Kate helped lower her into the wheelchair. ‘Better?’

Florence still looked pale. And not very happy. ‘How am I going to help Mary with the children if I come over all peculiar when I stand up?’

‘Give it some time,’ Rory advised as he turned the chair and started wheeling Florence to where Mary was being treated. ‘Nobody’s going anywhere for a while yet, and I prescribe a nice hot cup of tea.’

There was another prescription he was going to make as soon as he could. One for Kate.

K
ATE TIDIED UP
, putting the suture needle and the syringes from the local anaesthetic and the tetanus booster into the sharps bin, and all the disposable material and anything contaminated with blood into the hazardous waste bag.

A glance at her watch showed that it was now two hours since the first victims of the mini-bus accident had arrived. No wonder her feet and her back were aching and she was feeling so tired. Helping to deal with a Code Red would have been enough all on its own. To have to factor in all the confusing and still overpowering feelings she had for Rory had made it a marathon.

Maybe she could put her feet up back at the desk, and take over what must be a vast amount of paperwork.

Or maybe not.

She was smoothing a clean sheet onto the bed when someone came into the cubicle behind her.

It was a surprise to hear the curtain being whisked shut, and even more of a surprise to turn and find Rory standing there.

He was smiling at her. As though he was genuinely pleased to see her. It was impossible not to respond. Not to feel that incredible
warmth
. Kate smiled back and forgot all about her sore feet.

‘When are you due?’ Rory asked quietly. Not that there was any chance of anyone overhearing above the noise in the department.

‘My obstetrician seems to think they’ll come early, but we’re hoping for at least another eight weeks. Any time from Valentine’s Day, probably.’

‘And have you told people?’

‘That I’m pregnant?’ Kate couldn’t help her lips twitch. ‘It’s been a bit hard to hide lately.’

Rory’s gaze was intense. Serious now. Kate bit her lip. ‘I haven’t told anyone who the father is.’

He blinked. ‘Why not?’

‘Because I hadn’t told you. It wouldn’t have been fair. I…thought you might come back.’

His gaze wavered for a heartbeat. Had he guessed what she had almost confessed? That she had hoped he would come back? Dreamt of it too many times to count? Maybe not.

‘Where will you live?’ he asked.

Kate could cope with meeting his gaze now. ‘I’ve started looking for somewhere.’

‘So you’re still in that bedsit? Up all those stairs?’

‘Yes.’

‘How will you manage? Financially, I mean?’

He was going to offer to help, Kate thought in dis may. This was how it would all start. Financial support. Legal documents. Custody arrangements.

‘I’ll manage,’ she said quietly.

‘You don’t have to,’ Rory said. The curl of his lips might have gone, but the smile had returned to his eyes. ‘Not by yourself. Marry me, Katie.’

It was fascinating how Kate could mentally rewrite her future in the blink of an eye.

She wasn’t hearing the children tell her about Daddy’s new ‘friend’. Or sitting alone. She was in the same house as the twins.

With their father. Her
 
husband
.

Always knowing that he had offered marriage only for the sake of the children and not because he wanted her as a partner for life. Watching resentment build because he was trapped.

It was equally instantaneous to realise which of the scenarios would be the worst.

There was humiliation to be un earthed from this in the not too distant future, Kate realised.

And grief. Dreams that simply had to be given the burial they deserved.

Tears were dangerously close, but she wasn’t going to cry in front of Rory. She had some pride.
 
Somewhere
.

‘You’re proposing to me?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s very generous of you.’

‘No…’ Rory gave his head a tiny shake. ‘I
 
want
 
to marry you.’

‘Why?’

His expression went blank. He didn’t understand. Why would he? It was obvious why he was asking. She was pregnant and he was the father. He was going to fix the terrible mistake he’d made. Put things right.

She stared back. It wasn’t a mistake, and she didn’t need gestures that came from someone feeling sorry for her. She was proud of who she was and the decisions she had made, and she could manage. By herself. She was independent. And strong.

At least she would be when she’d had a bit of time to herself to get her head back together. There were only precious seconds of control left right now, however. Kate lifted her chin.

‘The answer’s no, Rory,’ she said softly. ‘I’m not going to marry you.’

S
PLASHING COLD WATER
 
on her face did little more than disguise her tears.

Rory had proposed to her.

The stuff of fantasy—except that there was no ro mance in the proposal. Worse, there was no way she could have done anything other than refuse. Kate felt as if she’d been offered a gift she wanted more than anything in life, but when she’d unwrapped it the pretty box had been empty.

A sham.

And that was what their marriage would have been if she’d accepted.

Six months ago she might have thought differently. She might have even convinced herself that it could work. That love could grow from a commitment that had been made for other reasons.

Just as she’d convinced herself that one night with the man she loved was worth it, even though he had been with her simply because he’d needed
 
someone
 
and she’d happened to be there.

Kate was older and wiser now. She knew the repercussions of such self-de cep tion. Pain that even a river of tears would never completely wash away.

‘Get a grip,’ she ordered her tear-stained reflection. ‘You’re a strong, independent woman—remember? You have to be. You’re going to have two little lives dependent on you in the very near future.’

Her hands smoothed the round ness of her belly. Felt the delicious ripple of movement. And finally the tears ceased and Kate smiled. A secret smile. Nobody else could share this joy. This wonder of new life within her. She was going to protect and nurture these babies with everything she had.

She might be alone, but she was never going to be lonely.

‘You can do this,’ she said to the mirror.

And, with a nod, Kate turned away to dry her face with a paper towel.

She
 
could
 
do this.

Rory was probably relieved that she’d refused his impetuous proposal. He’d done the right thing in offering, she’d refused, and that was that. They could move on.

There was even relief to be found in the end of fantasy. Peace. The cloak of serenity that Kate pulled around herself as she left the female locker room behind her might be transparently thin, but it was far too busy in here tonight for anybody to be looking hard enough to see through it.

Even Judy, who was preoccupied by finally being able to head home.

‘I’ll be buying my final gifts at the all-night grocer’s,’ she lamented. ‘But everybody likes chocolate, don’t they?’

‘Of course they do.’ Kate hugged her friend. ‘Have a wonderful day tomorrow. Merry Christmas.’

‘You’re coming for dinner, don’t forget. Oh, help! I hope they’ve still got stuffing in the shop.’

‘I won’t forget.’

‘You should be going home now, too. Melanie’s here from Medical Records. She’s doing the paperwork.’

Except poor Melanie wasn’t coping. She was virtually in tears when Kate went to find her.

‘It’s a mess,’ she confessed. ‘I’m missing details on more than half the people in here, and I don’t know where to start trying to catch up.’

‘You go home,’ Kate told her. ‘I’ll fix it. Go home and get some sleep, and have a really happy Christmas Day tomorrow.’

‘Are you sure? Oh, thank you! You’re an angel!’

Kate would have laughed except that she’d spotted Rory approaching, and he was already close enough to have overheard Melanie’s effusive gratitude. She tried to smile and found it easier than she had anticipated. Maybe that was the way to move forward. Keeping things light.

‘Apparently I’m an angel,’ she quipped.

‘I’ve thought that myself,’ he said. ‘More than once.’

Good grief, he sounded as though he wasn’t joking! Kate dragged her gaze down wards. To the sea of half-completed forms that lay in a messy heap beside the computer. The screensaver was back on. Bells still jingled and the clock still ticked over. Two hours and eighteen minutes to go now.

Kate sighed as she began to pick up papers. ‘I’ve got my work cut out for me here.’

‘Kate.’ Rory was close enough to lower his voice. ‘We need to talk.’

He never called her Kate. It sounded wrong. Formal. As though he was about to start discussing legalities. His parental rights. She couldn’t do that right now.

‘There’ll be plenty of time for that later.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as desperate as she felt. ‘You said so yourself.’

‘I know.’ His hair was decidedly ruffled, and she could see why when he raked his fingers through it again. ‘Just think about what I suggested in the mean time. Please?’

Her headshake was unconscious. Protective. She wasn’t going to let herself think about it any more.

‘I didn’t mean it to sound quite like it did.’ Rory’s low voice was compelling. ‘As though it was just because of the babies. Look, Kate…I never thought I’d be even thinking of marriage, but—’

Kate’s headshake was de lib er ate this time. ‘You don’t have to now, Rory. There’s no obligation.’ She glanced up from the sheaf of papers in her hand. ‘This is a new century, you know. There’s no horrible stigma attached to being a single mother. Some women actually choose to have a family that way.’

‘Is that what you’re doing?’

‘In a manner of speaking, I suppose it is.’

Surely it wasn’t disappointment she could see in his eyes? No. More likely to be anger as he gave headroom to the notion that she might have actually
 
planned
 
this situation. She couldn’t leave him thinking along those lines.

‘There was a choice to be made early on,’ she said carefully. ‘And I made it. You had by popular vote been abducted by aliens, so I knew I was making that choice on my own. That whatever the future held I would be dealing with it. On my own.’

His face was expression less now. ‘And is that how you
 
want
 
it to be?’

Oh…God! Want had nothing to do with the way it had to be. For everyone’s sake.

She was spared the agony of having to deny what she really wanted aloud. Lucy was beside the desk, a younger girl clinging to her hand.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘but Eve’s knee is bleeding again. I think she might need a new plaster.’

‘Does she now?’ Rory dropped to a crouch so that he was at eye level with the girl, who had a pixie face and long dark braids. ‘Hello, Eve.’

‘She doesn’t talk,’ Lucy said. ‘Well, not to people she doesn’t know. Do you, Eve?’

The braids wobbled as Eve shook her head.

‘But you hurt your knee?’ Rory spoke directly to Eve, and sounded as though it was no big deal that he wasn’t going to be answered.

‘She fell over when we were climbing out of the bus. The nurse said it was just a graze.’

‘
Just
 
a graze?’ Rory eyed the blood stained dressing on a small knee. ‘It’s sore, isn’t it, Eve?’

He was rewarded with a tentative nod.

‘You know what I think?’ Rory lowered his voice, making his opinion a secret. ‘I think it needs a
 
real
 
bandage. One that’s guaranteed to make it feel better. Shall I find one for you?’ He held his hand out.

Kate saw Lucy’s expression of astonishment when Eve’s hand crept into Rory’s. He stood up and led her to the end of the counter. Then he scooped her up and sat her on the top.

‘Bird’s-eye view,’ he said. ‘You get to be in charge while I find a bandage. Keep your eye out for anybody that’s being naughty. Especially that Santa over there. See?’ Rory jerked his head towards the cubicle where ‘Santa’ was sleeping off the effects of festive overindugence.

A loud snore sounded faintly through the busy noise and Rory raised an eyebrow. ‘Strike one,’ he said sternly. ‘Snoring.’

Eve’s lips twitched, and then she giggled.

Lucy looked at Kate, who could only shake her head and smile. She couldn’t explain how Rory did things like that. He had the ability to win hearts effortlessly. He was more relaxed now, she realised. More like the way he used to be. She saw a nurse go past with a bedpan discreetly covered with a towel. Her face had been set, indicating her desire to complete a less than pleasant task as quickly as possible, but then she noticed Rory and Eve and her lips curved in a smile.

He was good at that, too. Changing the atmosphere of the whole department by his presence. Making it feel happier. More alive. The same kind of effect he had on her.

Kate tried to concentrate on sorting the paperwork as best she could as Eve sat on the counter and swung her legs, her gaze firmly on the misbehaving Santa. Twelve of the forms were from the mini-bus passengers, and many had only first names recorded.

‘How old is Eve?’ she asked Lucy.

‘Seven.’

‘And Rhys?’

‘Four. Nearly five, I think.’

‘Do you know his last name?’

Lucy shook her head. ‘Aunty Mary knows.’

‘I’ll go and talk to her. You all right for a minute?’

Lucy nodded. She was watching Rory returning, pushing a dressing trolley in front of him. Kate saw a young police officer catch his attention, and Rory indicated the resus area she was heading for herself. When she got there she found Florence beside Mary’s bed, and they were both looking appalled.

‘How
 
could
 
they?’ Florence was saying. ‘On Christmas Eve!’

‘Problem?’ Kate queried.

‘Someone’s stolen all the gifts that were in the mini-bus,’ the police officer told her. ‘Someone said they’d been sent, but Mrs Ballantyne says she didn’t arrange anything.’

‘No, I most certainly didn’t!’

‘The poor children.’ Florence looked close to tears. ‘As if they haven’t had enough to deal with tonight.’

‘The guys from the tow truck reckon they got a plate number. We’ve got road patrols keeping an eye out, but I wouldn’t bank on getting them back immediately.’ The police officer was sympathetic. ‘I’m really sorry.’

Mary’s nose was swollen, she had black circles under her eyes, and when she spoke it sounded as if she had a very bad cold—but, amazingly, she was smiling. She patted her housekeeper’s hand.

‘We’re lucky, Flo. Our wee Michael is going to be all right. What does it matter if the gifts have gone when we’ve all still got each other? Let’s get organised. They’re going to let us take Wally home and look after him there, and Helen will be ready to go when her plasters have dried a bit more. We’ll arrange some taxis for you, and I’ll stay here with Michael.’

‘Is he out of Theatre?’ Kate hadn’t had a chance to catch up on the most seriously injured child.

‘Just a few minutes ago.’ Florence wiped her eyes. ‘He’s going to be fine, but he’ll be in hospital for a while.’ She sniffed and turned to Mary. ‘And
 
I’ll
 
stay with him. The children need you to take them home.’

‘Let’s get on with it, then.’

‘I need just a couple of minutes,’ Kate said apologetically. ‘I’ve got a lot of gaps in these forms I need to fill in. Surnames and dates of birth and things for some of your children.’

‘You go,’ Mary directed Florence. ‘Be with Michael for when he wakes up in Recovery. You’ll have to be quick,’ she warned Kate. ‘I need to go to… Where are the children, Flo?’

‘The relatives’ room. We’ve made beds on the couches and most of them are asleep.’

‘I’ll show you,’ Kate promised. ‘This will only take a minute or two.’