The Doctors' Christmas Reunion

by Meredith Webber

  And the air in the house was lighter somehow, warm with love and laughter, the excitement of Christmas an added bonus.

  ‘Chelsea and I are going down to Croxton this afternoon,’ Ellie announced at breakfast, on the second last day of the school term. ‘It’s late-night shopping and she needs some clothes.’

  Andy looked across the table at her and smiled.

  ‘And you don’t? How long since you’ve been to that boutique you love down there? Buy yourself something special for Christmas—something from me.’

  Far too much in love to be offended by this male attitude to gift-giving, Ellie simply smiled. She’d already done most of her Christmas shopping online, and had even found the perfect gift for Andy—an elaborate watch that could time the practice drills he did with his team and about a hundred other things she didn’t understand but knew he would.

  Christmas fever was spreading through the town. People were already wearing T-shirts with reindeer heads or snowmen on them, and white pom-pommed Santa hats as they shopped in forty-degree Celsius heat.

  And this Saturday would be the town’s Christmas parade, which acted as a celebration of the end of the school year as well as being less than a week to go before the big day. The soccer team would be marching in it, most of them now in uniform, although some of the younger newcomers, like Logan and his mates, might have to make do with yellow T-shirts.

  Chelsea had made a bright yellow flag and appointed herself to carry it at the head of their group. The ‘Maytown Soccer Club’ emblazoned across it would be held proud for all to see.

  When they were in town Ellie did visit the boutique in Croxton, finding there a lovely, slinky, satin nightdress in a soft oyster colour that felt so sexy on that she blushed in the changing room.

  But as she slipped into it that night, she wondered if she should have kept it for Christmas night, and made it the gift from Andy.

  But the glow of physical love and satisfaction had her in its thrall. Everything was going so well—they were Andy and Ellie again, at one with each other, their love as strong as ever.

  Maybe even stronger?

  So she wanted to feel the tempting garment on her—for him to see it on her—to have him take it off...

  ‘Is this my Christmas present to you?’ he asked, smiling as she twirled in front of him later that night, the soft material clinging to every curve of her figure.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘it’s mine to you.’

  She put her arms around him, kissed his lips, then said, ‘Stand still.’

  And slowly, teasingly, she removed his clothes, pressing kisses against skin as it was bared, trailing her fingers over the body she knew so well.

  They made love slowly, hands and lips exploring, until a single touch from Andy’s finger sent Ellie spiralling into space, her body still tingling as Andy entered her, and teased her into another climax, matching it to his own.

  And afterwards, lying on their sides, facing each other, Ellie traced his profile with her finger, traced his lips, his ears, the little whorl in his hair above his left eyebrow...

  This was how life was meant to be—hers and Andy’s. Surely now they could go on as they had begun, not only in love but in tune with each other. They could share their work and their interests—well, she’d go to some of the soccer games—but working together they could offer so much to the community, while their own lives would be enriched by their participation in it.

  And just perhaps...

  She was so filled with happiness, so in love with this man, that it seemed only natural to speak about a thought that had occurred to her earlier today.

  ‘Do you know?’ she began in a drowsy, satisfied voice. ‘I hadn’t realised until today but this week has probably been a very fertile time for me. Though I can’t be sure—you know how irregular I am. Do you think, after all these years and the IVF and everything, we could be lucky enough for it to happen just like that?’

  But Andy was out of bed before she’d finished her question, grabbing at his shorts, hauling them on, his face ablaze with anger.

  ‘You seduced me! You tricked me! Take me to bed, Andy, you said, when all along you knew how I felt about another baby—all along you knew I couldn’t go through that again.’

  He snatched his pillow from the bed and marched away, through the en suite bathroom and back to the other bedroom—the bliss and happiness of the last week dissolving in front of her, his harsh words of blame cutting her heart into pieces...

  She didn’t cry—couldn’t. Perhaps she’d already used up her life’s allotment of tears.

  Or perhaps the shock and pain was too deep for tears...

  She closed her eyes and tried to work out why he had reacted as he had. Yes, he’d said no to more IVF but surely...?

  What did he feel about it all that she should know?

  Andy had been upset, yes, they both had...

  But had she crawled into herself with her misery, wrapping it around her like a cocoon? Had she not shared it, not talked enough with Andy about how he might have been feeling?

  Back then Ellie had assumed his ‘no more IVF’ had meant he just didn’t want to go through the whole process again, and, in truth, neither had she. Not really. The drugs had made her feel ill at times, and at other moments the process had seemed so clinical she’d wondered if she could care for a baby conceived this way as much as one she’d carried from day one in her womb.

  And while their love-making had left her languid, that feeling had turned to one of devastation.

  How could she not have known Andy’s feelings about another baby? How could she have simply assumed he was over the IVF process and it was her suggestion of that which had shattered their happiness?

  What did Andy feel?

  And worst of all, how did she not know?

  * * *

  Morning brought no answers. Andy had already gone by the time she reached the kitchen. In fact, Chelsea was ready to leave as well, a watermelon for the final-day festivities tucked under one arm.

  ‘Have fun!’ Ellie said to Chelsea, and hoped the words hadn’t sounded as hollow as they felt.

  But as she worked through the day she knew she couldn’t go back to the way things had been recently. She wanted a real marriage or none at all.

  She had to talk to Andy.

  But Andy was conspicuous by his absence. He was off organising something with the soccer team, Chelsea told her as they ate their dinner.

  ‘There are no games tomorrow because of the parade, but he wanted to sort out how they’d march so they looked professional rather than a rabble.’

  ‘And you’re not there?’ Ellie asked.

  Chelsea smiled at her.

  ‘You know I’m the flag bearer. I know where I’ve got to go.’

  ‘And there are more uniforms,’ Chelsea continued. ‘The butcher has decided to sponsor us and he donated them—well, him and his customers—he’s got a box on his counter collecting money for us.’

  ‘Good for him,’ Ellie said, and felt the warmth she kept finding in this small community, the sense of everyone pitching in to help, no matter what.

  Could she move away?

  She’d talk to Andy, first time she had a chance, and convince him she’d been feeling so happy the words had just come out. She’d apologise for upsetting him and try to get him to talk about whatever he was feeling...

  But he was gone again the next morning.

  ‘He’s organising off-duty hospital staff to be posted along the parade route,’ Chelsea informed her. ‘In case anyone faints.’

  ‘Humph!’

  Ellie hadn’t realised she’d actually let her disbelief out until Chelsea raised her eyebrows at her.

  ‘You’ll see him at the parade,’ Chelsea reminded her, but a fat lot of good that would do. She could hardly yell an apology a
t him as he marched past with his soccer team.

  Chelsea headed off, and Ellie cleaned up the breakfast things, swept the kitchen, and had a cool shower. It was already hot, and unless she could find some shady spot on the parade route, she was going to get even hotter.

  In shorts and a tank top, sandals on her feet, she slapped a wide-brimmed hat on her head and set off, all the anticipation she’d felt earlier for this annual event draining from her.

  * * *

  Ellie wouldn’t come, Andy decided as he lined his players up behind the rugby boys and girls. She’d been so excited and he’d virtually slapped her down, killed that happiness he’d seen in her eyes. Damn it all, how could he not explain, not tell her how he’d felt? But remembered pain had torn through his body, piercing his heart and opening up old wounds and the deep black hole and before he’d known it, the words had come tumbling out.

  He tried to concentrate on the parade—on what he was supposed to be doing—but in his head he could see the colour leaving Ellie’s face, the light dying in her eyes, as he’d rounded on her...

  He tried to shut out the memories and think about the parade. Cubs and Scouts, Guides and Brownies led the way, then the rugby lot, his soccer team, a band from the school, and a series of floats and special attractions, including stiltwalkers and dancing girls in parade order all the way down the main street and into the park.

  He walked with his team, but his mind wasn’t on it, his eyes sweeping the crowd that lined the street.

  Ellie still might come...

  And even if she didn’t, did that mean anything?

  She could have had an emergency...

  Or he might have ruined things between them for ever.

  His gut twisted.

  He could hear the yells of delight from the crowd so the fire engine, resplendent in tinsel and balloons, with Father Christmas sitting on his throne on the tank at the back, must have come into view. The yells of delight were probably the fact that he was throwing wrapped sweets into the crowd.

  He could hear the cries of the children, and see the smiling faces. It was Christmas, a time of joy, and here he was wondering if he’d ever feel such an emotion again.

  Although his heart did do its customary flip when he saw Ellie—picked her out fifty metres away—squashed in beside a couple of women he recognised as soccer mums. At least she’d come...

  He’d escaped the house early this morning, on the pretext of having to check in at the hospital before heading over to the marshalling ground for the parade.

  Deep down he knew he should have stayed and talked and tried to explain to her just how much the loss of their unborn child had hurt him. His counsellor had told him that was the place to start. But how to explain something he couldn’t explain even to himself. It was a black hole in his head, with its own black cloud that hovered above him when he remembered that time.

  He’d turned his attention back to the team when he saw two figures fly out of the crowd, a man and a woman, the woman middle-aged, the man younger.

  He was at the back of the group to hurry along the stragglers so he couldn’t see their faces but as they’d now reached Chelsea and had practically strangled her with hugs, he wondered if it could be her family—her mother, who had just been found—and her brother, Harry.

  To their credit, his squad barely faltered in their steps, and somehow Chelsea had sorted out the newcomers, who were now marching with her, one each side, beaming at the crowd and giving little waves.

  He caught sight of Ellie in the crowd again, waving with all the onlookers.

  Was it possible that she’d pulled this latest stunt on him because she really hadn’t known what he’d been through when their unborn baby had died?

  Andy thought back to that terrible time, to their shock and pain—shared at first, then as the reality had sunk in, Ellie, though exhausted by her grief, had gone back to work, determined not to let her patients and the town down.

  Work had become her escape from thinking, as it had for him much earlier.

  And, if Andy was honest, how could Ellie have known when he’d found it impossible to talk about—to even think about most of the time...

  He couldn’t go back to living as they had been, before they’d ended up in the same bed again. They had to talk—just talk this time—without the pain and hurt and harshness that had followed their loss...

  * * *

  Ellie searched for Andy at the showground, where the parade had ended. A fair had been set up for the children, hot dog stalls, and baked potatoes with a dozen different fillings.

  A search of the beer tent, which was only slightly more crowded than the local women’s group tent supplying tea, with scones and jam and cream, failed to produce her husband, so Ellie settled for the latter, gratefully accepting the tepid-looking tea as she’d finished the water from the bottle she carried by the time the parade had only been halfway through.

  She still wanted to find Andy, to talk to him, but now she’d had her tea and settled down, she realised that somewhere a little less public than these festivities would be more appropriate.

  Chelsea had found him first, so when Ellie saw them under a big eucalypt, talking to a young man and a vaguely familiar-looking woman, she wondered if she should interfere.

  But Chelsea beckoned her over, her face bright with happiness.

  ‘You’ll never guess who came,’ she said, almost glowing with pride. ‘My mum and Harry. Here they are.’

  Ellie looked at them, remembering now how pretty Chelsea’s mother was, although it had been years since she’d seen her. And Harry was now a handsome young man.

  Jill was effusive in her thanks for them looking after Chelsea, trying to explain what had led her to taking off and leaving her two children behind.

  ‘It was stupid,’ she said. ‘I’ve known since before I married Ken that he’d always be off somewhere, worrying about the planet, but this last time, when he left, I felt let down, useless and unnecessary to requirements. The kids were practically grown up and before long they’d be gone, and I began to worry about who I really was if I wasn’t a mother or a wife—which is all I’d been for a long time.’

  Ellie nodded. Her mother had been much the same when she, Ellie, had left home—cast adrift somehow, until she’d decided to go back to school.

  ‘I do understand,’ she said to Jill. ‘But at least you’re here now, and Chelsea knows you’ll be with her through the months ahead.’

  ‘Me, too,’ said Harry as Jill hugged her daughter, apologising for all that had happened and promising they’d work things out together.

  But Jill was still trying to explain.

  ‘I should never have left! I love my family, I really do, and what made me think I needed more than that—needed something special—I don’t know.’

  ‘Probably Dad spending half his life away from us,’ Harry said, putting his arms around his mother and giving her a hug.

  ‘Yes, but you both know that when we are together, we more than make up for it.’

  Ellie thought of the nights she’d shared with Andy recently and couldn’t have agreed more.

  Until she’d accidentally spoiled it.

  Or had she?

  Ellie looked at Andy and read the anguish in his eyes. She touched his arms just lightly, and was pleased when he didn’t pull away but actually smiled at her.

  ‘They’ve driven up from Sydney, so I’ve asked them to stay, at least for one night, before they drive back,’ he said.

  And Ellie echoed the invitation, insisting they come to the house now to have a shower and cool off from the heat.

  ‘I’ll show them the way,’ Chelsea said, linking her arms through theirs, so she had family on both sides.

  ‘I’ve got to stay a while,’ Andy said. ‘I don’t like leaving the younger ones without a responsible adult with th
em.’

  ‘I don’t blame you for that,’ Ellie said as she spied Logan climbing into one of the cars on the octopus ride. ‘But, Andy, I do want to say something.’

  He met her eyes, but his were cautious. There was none of the warmth and love she’d read in them recently.

  ‘I didn’t take you to bed deliberately. I had no idea how you felt about the baby. I just needed you so badly that night, needed your love and your loving. It was only later that I realised, and mentioned it because I thought you’d be happy.’

  He stared at her for a moment, then shook his head.

  ‘You have no idea how it made me feel, losing our baby. How much it hurt, the things it killed inside me,’ he said, and turned away.

  Ellie watched him go.

  Was that it?

  Was it over?

  Did the week they’d just shared mean nothing to him?

  The years they’d shared less than nothing...?

  That was not happening, she decided. And now at least she had a clue. She’d had no idea how he’d felt—that’s what he’d said.

  Looking back, she’d known he’d been as upset about losing the baby as she had been, and they’d grieved together.

  But had it been more than that to Andy?

  Some deeper, more visceral pain that had made him adamant he couldn’t go through it again.

  And instead of talking properly, instead of listening to him, learning how he felt, she’d wrapped her own unhappiness around her like a shroud, ignoring him...

  And later, she remembered only the cruel words he’d thrown at her and how she’d hit back at him, until they’d had to stop before they’d destroyed each other.

  But now?

  Why hadn’t Andy spoken to her about it during the last week? They’d talked and talked in bed, but about the present, not the past.

  About love—not bitterness...