The Doctors' Christmas Reunion

by Meredith Webber

  But Ellie, he realised, was no longer by his side. This time she’d stopped several paces back and was muttering to herself.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes!’ Ellie caught up with him. ‘I just hadn’t thought about school. Chelsea’s only sixteen so of course she should still be at school.’

  She hesitated again.

  ‘Although maybe sixteen is an acceptable age to leave school—I’ll have to find out. And will going to school, being pregnant in a place full of strangers, be frightening for her?’

  Andy imagined a pregnant Chelsea having to brave it up in front of a room full of teenage strangers. Guilt at his earlier reaction ate into him. Wasn’t their profession meant to be a caring one?

  Then he smiled as the answer came to him.

  ‘Well, if she’s with us for the weekend, she can join in the soccer barbecue. Most of the team are at the high school. They’re all good kids, they’ll look after her.’

  ‘Oh, Andy! That’s a wonderful idea,’ the woman he loved replied, with such enthusiasm that she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug.

  It was just a quick hug, and maybe it was the shock of it that stopped him returning it, or the thought of it turning it into something longer, more intimate. There was that kiss idea again...

  The mere thought of kissing Ellie made his head spin.

  But it was not to be. Although it did seem to Andy that maybe they could make their way back to being friends—something that had seemed impossible when the emotion-driven arguments had sent her off to sleep downstairs two long months ago.

  Back then, he hadn’t realised just how broken things had become between them, possibly because his mother had often sought refuge from her loud and boisterous family by escaping to the downstairs flat. Even when they had both been upstairs, his parents, in his memory, had never shared a bedroom, his mother being a light sleeper and his father often being called out in the middle of the night.

  After a while he’d accepted it was easier this way—easier to have Ellie in a separate space even if he lay awake at night wondering if she, too, was awake.

  Wondering if she, too, was thinking of their first night together, of their wedding night...

  Sharing a bed and not sharing love, that would have been impossible...

  * * *

  ‘You’re really okay about having Chelsea to stay?’ Ellie asked, linking her arm through Andy’s as they walked through their gate, down the path, and stopped at the bottom of the steps that led up to the veranda.

  ‘Of course I am. Though we should do something about one of the girls’ rooms to make it comfortable for her.’

  ‘Or let her do it up how she wants it. It will give her something to do over the holidays and I think she’d probably enjoy it.’

  ‘You’re a good woman, Ellie Fraser,’ Andy said, his voice curling into her ears, the deep tone finding its way into her heart.

  ‘You’re not so bad yourself, for a bloke!’ she parried, afraid, because what was happening inside her felt a little bit like falling in love, or the tentative, fragile, beginning part of falling in love, again.

  She’d worked out, back when their world had crashed, that it was okay to still love Andy—that would never change—but it would be better not to be ‘in love’ with him, because that would make the gulf between them too hard to bear.

  ‘You might want to check on Chelsea, while I move my things back into your mother’s room,’ Ellie said. ‘She was going to grab something to eat and go to bed, but if she’s awake I know she’d like to see you and know you’re happy to have her here.’

  And being downstairs, packing what few things she’d actually moved, would give Ellie time to think about her feelings for Andy, something that was easier to do when he wasn’t around, his body sending messages to hers, reminding her of what they’d had.

  She had to think, too, about the decision she’d made so recently—the one to give up and go back to the city.

  She could hardly do that with Chelsea here, and become yet another person leaving her in the lurch!

  She watched Andy take the steps two at a time and turn along the veranda, peering into rooms to find their guest.

  She’d shower downstairs then gather up her things. Upstairs, they’d share the en suite bathroom, as they had when he’d shifted into his father’s room.

  Back then, in the beginning of the separation, any physical contact between them had actually seemed uncomfortable—dangerous even—but these days, close proximity, particularly in a hug of all things, was reminding her body of the passion they’d shared, and sending little flares of desire skittering along her nerves.

  Had he felt it, too?

  He certainly hadn’t hugged her back, or swung her around the way he used to...

  He’d smelled like Andy when she’d hugged him, the faintest lingering scent of his aftershave reminding her—

  The thoughts followed her to bed, where she lay wondering about love and loving and sex and Chelsea until, in the middle of a totally unconnected thought about her mother’s recipe for Christmas pudding, she fell asleep.

  * * *

  Having found his young cousin fast asleep in one of his sister’s rooms, Andy headed for the kitchen and made a cup of tea. He momentarily considered calling to Ellie to see if she wanted one, then remembered the way his body had reacted when she’d hugged him.

  It was far better to concentrate on soccer, and focus his mind on doing his best for the makeshift team he was building...

  He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, then sat down at the kitchen table with a large notebook in which he was devising soccer practice strategies for his team. With the help of numerous internet videos, he felt he was getting closer to being able to call himself a coach.

  At least Andy had help from Madeleine Courtney, one of the high-school teachers, who claimed to have learned soccer coaching. But as her system seemed to consist of dividing the participants into two teams and letting them go at it, he had his doubts about its effectiveness.

  His soccer club had started as something he could get his teeth into to stop himself thinking about Ellie and the mess their life was in.

  For the first few weeks he hadn’t bothered too much about skills or techniques, concentrating on getting the participants interested enough to keep coming. Which had simply meant playing.

  But now he wanted more of them than that. There was an inter-town competition beginning in the New Year, with a trial game this weekend, and he wanted them competitive, keen to win, but able to lose gracefully.

  Some of these kids had had very little discipline at home, and too much time on their hands. The local police sergeant had introduced him to five of them, so in reality they were doing time for misdemeanours. If he, Andy, could get them fit and interested in the game, who knew where it could lead?

  Three others, two girls and a boy, had been brought to Outpatients by their parents because his father had started a weight-loss group and he, Andy, had been prepared to continue it.

  But in his opinion, playing sport would not only help their weight loss and build healthy muscle, it would improve their self-esteem as well.

  It was win-win, all the way...

  But it was up to Andy to get it right. And for that he needed practice strategies for dribbling and passing, things he could easily demonstrate to the kids so they could practise them in their correct positions. And, of course, he needed to teach them the rules. It was one of the reasons he’d arranged the barbecue—so they could have a sit-down session on the veranda going over the rules, and the importance of them in the game, before they ate.

  And played.

  Should pregnant women—girls—play soccer? Another player would even up his numbers. Even if Chelsea only stood in goal, she’d be handy.

  He’d have to check.

 
Or maybe he could ask Ellie...

  He was an idiot. He was only plunging himself into this challenge so he didn’t have to think about Ellie.

  Or the mess he’d made of things between them...

  It would be impossible to have her on the team.

  He should think about soccer, not Ellie.

  It had become a kind of mantra to keep him sane.

  Andy divided up his players into two teams and marked out their positions—four defenders, four midfielders and two forwards, plus a goalie for each team, or for one team if he couldn’t persuade their new housemate to play.

  He wrote out a programme for warming up, some aerobic exercise, and then the drills he wanted them to do. If they worked this way two days a week, they could then have a game after warm-up on Friday. This would be a practice game—a rehearsal for Saturday afternoon—when more and more parents and other spectators were turning up to watch the newly minted Maytown Soccer Team.

  In fact, they could do some of the drills on the old tennis court area here at home, which would mean they’d be less likely to skive off into an impromptu game.

  And he’d appoint Rangi, one of the Sudanese lads, as his offsider to run the programmes on afternoons he couldn’t make it or was running late.

  Satisfied that he had, at last, brought a little structure to the group, Andy put away his notebook and headed for bed, wondering if Ellie might get interested in the team even if she wasn’t playing. Pictured them together on the sidelines, as one again...

  He sighed as he went to bed—alone—and shut his mind against all the questions that were too dangerous to consider: all the what if I’d done this or said that, all the useless, totally impossible, ever-haunting what-ifs...

  Although knowing Ellie was back in the bed they’d shared helped chase the dark thoughts away.

  He had nearly kissed her, and he could practically hear her breathing...

  * * *

  Ellie woke early, showered, and dressed for work, then went to check on their new lodger.

  Chelsea was up and dressed, sitting on the bed as if uncertain what to do next.

  ‘Come on,’ Ellie said to her. ‘You’ll have to learn to treat this house as your home, and to a certain extent look after yourself because Andy and I are often called out and you’ll starve if you can’t manage.’

  She opened the pantry and pointed to a range of cereal, tea-bags, coffee, even drinking chocolate.

  ‘And there are always eggs and bacon in the fridge if you like a cooked breakfast, but it will be a case of help yourself because we tend to get up, eat, then go to work.’

  Chelsea settled on cereal, while Ellie made toast for herself and a pot of tea that she set on the table, along with mugs, milk, and sugar.

  ‘Will you be okay here on your own while we’re at work?’ she asked, and Chelsea smiled at her.

  ‘I’m just so happy to have a home. Ours was so lonely without Mum and Dad. Harry was hardly ever there. I’ll sort out my things then sit on the veranda and read a book. From what I’ve seen, the Fraser passion for sci-fi is alive and well in this house.’

  Ellie shuddered.

  ‘It was totally foreign to me when I first met Andy, and I’ve never got caught up in it, although I have read some of it.’

  At lunchtime, when she and her new boarder sat together in the kitchen, Chelsea explained she was old enough to leave school but she really hadn’t wanted to. She’d always wanted to be a scientist so she desperately wanted to finish her schooling, and if possible get into a university.

  ‘How much school have you missed now?’ Ellie asked her.

  The girl frowned as she worked out her answer.

  ‘About three—maybe five—weeks,’ she said. ‘I just sat around wishing it would all go away.’

  ‘And if you went back to school here, could you make that up?’

  ‘You mean now, this year, before the end of term—with this?’

  She patted her bump.

  ‘Why not?’ Ellie said. ‘Even if you go back long enough to get some work to do over the Christmas holidays that will catch you up, then you can go back full time next year.’

  ‘And when the baby comes?’

  Ellie sighed.

  ‘That’s going to depend on what you want to do about the baby. You don’t have to make any decisions right now, but there are really only two choices.’

  ‘Keeping it or adoption?’

  Tears filled the girl’s eyes.

  ‘We’ve plenty of time to sort that out,’ Ellie told her. ‘We’ll talk about it, you and me, and Andy. Your boyfriend, Alex, too. Talk to him. He should have some say. Between the lot of us we’ll work out what’s best for both of you.’

  Ellie pushed back her chair as she stood up, needing to get back to work and not yet ready for tearful discussions about the baby’s future.

  Any baby’s future...

  ‘If you wouldn’t mind clearing away our plates, then you could have a good look at your room, maybe take down the old posters. You’d better roll them up and put them away somewhere in case they turn out to be precious to their former owner. We can get some paint to freshen up the walls and some new bed linen for you.’

  The tears Ellie had been hoping to avoid arrived in full flood, along with mutterings of ‘too good to me,’ and ‘you’re too kind’.

  But Ellie was already heading down the steps.

  ‘Have a shower and a lie down. You’ll feel a lot better after you’ve had a rest.’

  The afternoon was blessedly free of any drama, and she even had one cancellation, which gave her a few minutes to think about her concern for the elderly men in town. Her grandmother had regularly attended a sewing, knitting, and craft group once a week in the hall at a local church, going along for a chat more than the knitting or sewing. The Country Women’s Association—an institution in Australia—provided for the women as well, but finding something for the men might prove more difficult.

  Many of the local farmers retired to houses in the town, leaving their sons to run the property, and things like indoor bowls or card games might be too tame for them.

  A Men’s Shed, that was what she needed, but one with a purpose. She’d talk to Andy about it tonight.

  And the ease with which that thought came out startled her enough to spend the rest of the afternoon with her mind focussed fully on work.

  Which was just as well, as her next patient presented with a racing pulse and a pallor that would make cream look suntanned. Bill Stevens had a history of atrial fibrillation which was usually controlled by his medication. He’d sensibly bought an app for his phone that could tell him when he was in AF, so he could take three more tablets, upping his medication from one hundred to a total of four hundred mgs.

  ‘It usually works for me,’ he told Ellie plaintively.

  ‘Well, maybe it still will,’ she told him, ‘but I’d prefer it if you were in hospital. If it doesn’t settle down, they can give you the drug intravenously, and keep you on a monitor so they know what’s happening. How did you get here?’

  ‘My wife drove me. She’s doing some shopping while she’s in town.’

  The ‘while she’s in town’ reminded Ellie that many of her patients came from properties up to eighty miles away, and although she knew Bill was closer than that, she certainly didn’t want him out there with his heart still playing up, risking a stroke unless they stabilised it. She pressed the buzzer that would bring Maureen into the room.

  ‘Would you please phone an ambulance for Bill, then keep an eye out for his wife. She’ll be back when she finishes shopping and we need to let her know he’s gone to hospital.’

  ‘Will I phone and let them know he’s coming?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘No, I’ll do it. Andy can access Bill’s file there but I’d like to fill him in on today’s situation
.’

  * * *

  ‘And if we don’t get it back in rhythm with medication?’ Andy asked, when Ellie had explained that Bill was on his way.

  ‘Are you up for a cardioversion or will you fly him out?’

  Andy peered at the phone for a moment. Was Ellie really asking him that?

  Okay so he’d trained in the use of the defibrillator—hadn’t they all? He’d even used one to re-start a patient’s heart. But the difference with cardioversion was that it had to be synchronised to a particular point in the heart’s rhythm, and although the machine itself did that job quite efficiently, as long as you pressed the sync button before shocking, he felt uneasy about it.

  If something were to go wrong—if Bill had a seizure when they shocked him—what back-up did he have? One anaesthetic-trained nurse and Ellie at a pinch. No cardiologist for hundreds of miles.

  ‘Send him to the coast,’ he heard Ellie’s voice say, coming from afar as he still had the phone in his hand in front of him, not up to his ear. ‘Presumably he’s had lunch, which means you can’t anaesthetise him for a few hours, so far better to have a specialist do it. He should be at your hospital by now, I’ll send his wife on there. She can either fly out with him or drive to wherever they’re taking him. Maybe do neither. If all goes well, they’ll send him back tomorrow or the next day, whenever they have an ambulance car coming this way.’

  Andy was grinning as he hung up. Ellie was so far ahead of him in some ways, you’d think it was she who’d grown up in the bush with its limited facilities, not him. But everything she said made sense. The state-funded ambulance system had several helicopters used for ferrying patients from outlying districts to specialist hospitals.

  He went to meet Bill and explain what was going to happen, asking Andrea, who was on duty in the small ED, to phone for the air ambulance.

  ‘It’ll fix itself, it always does,’ Bill argued as Andy removed the ambulance leads, replacing them with hospital ones and attaching them to the monitor. Bill’s heart rate was still spiking around the one hundred to one hundred and twenty mark, the line occasionally dropping down to ninety-five at the lowest.