‘That we find a truce. Any animosity between us would quickly filter through the camp and bring the rest of the volunteers down. So perhaps we should...forget our history. Start again.’
‘Start again?’ She looked dubious. ‘How, precisely, are we supposed to do that?’
He hadn’t thought that far. His whole adult life he’d had a plan, had mapped things out in advance. He liked it that way. He thrived on being prepared. But now his mind cast around wildly until, eventually, it touched on a potential solution and grasped it as though it were the last life jacket and he were on a sinking ship.
‘Christmas. Come on, I’ll show you.’
‘Christmas?’ She frowned.
It was galling how contained, how unaffected Myles was whilst her heart was skittering around her chest and her thoughts were a chaotic mess.
Just like that New Year’s Eve back when she’d been seventeen.
She forced the past from her head and fought to concentrate on the here and now.
‘Yes,’ Myles was announcing, his tone clipped. ‘Your Christmas toy boxes have arrived.’
‘Really?’
She hadn’t expected his tactics to work, but suddenly a thread of excitement rippled through her as she hurried after him across the warehouse. And then she saw the pallet boxes, the contents wrapped in a transparent film, and she stopped dead.
It was almost surreal. The same red, white and green boxes that had been filled in New York were now out here, and her fingers longed to reach out and lift the pop-up Christmas tree on just one of them.
‘I can’t believe they’re here,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t believe I’m here.’
The excitement rippled again. And then something else. She wasn’t prepared for the apprehension that suddenly overcame her, like a fire blanket thrown down to smother the flames.
‘Everything okay?’
As if he could read her thoughts.
Her eyes flickered to his almost against his will.
‘What was I thinking?’ she murmured.
‘Rae?’
‘There I was, back in my sheltered life in New York, going on and on about these boxes, encouraging people to come to a charity gala just to donate for more boxes, for toys, for Christmas, when the kids out here don’t need that. I was naïve. I didn’t have a clue what it was really like to be a kid out here. I’ve wasted so much time on stuff which doesn’t matter.’
‘It does matter, Raevenne.’
‘Of course it doesn’t. I was such an idiot, telling people how important those toy boxes were, back home. Making such a big deal out of getting people to buy them or fill them.’
‘You’re not an idiot.’
‘Of course I am,’ she cried. ‘As if Christmas means the same thing out here. The kids out here don’t need stupid toys, they need real solutions for real problems, like where their next meal is coming from, whether the water is safe enough to drink, if their mother is going to get through her next childbirth without a fatal complication.’
She was so caught up in her own frustration that she didn’t notice Myles reach out until he’d snagged her hand, holding it tightly in his.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Come with me.’
It was a command rather than a request. And one that, despite everything, Rae found herself obeying.
‘Have you actually been around the camp since you arrived?’
‘A little.’ She wrinkled her nose.
The truth was she’d been so caught up in getting herself up to speed medically that she really hadn’t had time to go anywhere but the clinic, the mess and her bed. But the last thing she wanted right now was Myles taking her around and proving to her everything she’d just said. Proving to her how much of a naïve fool she’d been thinking stupid toys made a difference.
‘Have you seen the classrooms?’ Myles pressed her, not letting her pull her hand free.
Not that she tried too hard.
‘No, why?’
He didn’t answer as he left the warehouse, locking it quickly behind them, still not letting go of her hand. She told herself she didn’t feel the surges of electricity racing through her at his mere touch, making her burn up even though her breath was visible in the freezing night air.
They crossed the compound, away from the hospital and the mess and through the warren of dusty roads to another set of prefab, community-style buildings.
‘They have Christmas trees,’ she exclaimed in surprise. And over on the other side of the square, a nativity scene had been painstakingly created.
‘It is Christmas time,’ Myles pointed out wryly.
‘But it’s a nativity scene.’
He laughed, but Rae got the feeling it was with her, not at her.
‘Why not? Just because we’re thousands of miles away from home doesn’t mean some of the people out here don’t have the same Christmas story that we have. They might not celebrate it quite the way we do, with eggnog and turkey, but it’s still Christmas. They’ll be feasting and dancing and singing.’
‘I... Right.’ She dipped her head, feeling a little foolish. Myles seemed to understand how places like this worked so easily, whilst she struggled with even the more basic concepts.
‘Wait, according to the map the charity drew up for us, the schoolhouse must be around here somewhere.’ He glanced around. ‘There.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Inside.’ He barely looked over his shoulder, his voice more a command than a request. ‘Come on.’
She’d seen the classrooms through their makeshift windows, complete with mismatched chairs and tables and a very old chalkboard by what had to be the teacher’s desk, but she’d never been inside. She hadn’t dared.
Rae only paused for a moment before scurrying after him, trying to quell her nerves as he opened the door for her to step inside the deserted building, expecting any moment someone to stop them and tell them that they weren’t allowed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IT WAS THE homemade decorations that struck Rae first. Sparkly paper chains, red felt stockings made from fishing nets, and glittery, colourfully decorated, foam Christmas tree ornaments; red-and-white Father Christmas hats lovingly made from scraps of felt, some well, some not so well, were strewn through the two classrooms. Names she couldn’t pronounce sewn haphazardly on each of them with obvious pride.
In a bowl sat ornately carved wooden recorders, ready to be played, whilst an old piano with its missing front and its yellowed keys, hunched yet proud, took pride of place. She leaned over to see what they were learning.
‘Those are carols.’ Surprise rippled through her. ‘Christmas Carols.’
‘Probably to entertain the volunteers.’ Myles nodded. ‘You’ll likely be expected to sing along.
‘Really?’
‘We will,’ he corrected belatedly. ‘Especially when they then teach us some of their songs.
‘I didn’t know,’ she breathed softly.
‘You weren’t an idiot for wanting to give these kids those toy boxes. They might have to worry about food and water and medical care, but they still love toys and gifts and playing, just like every other kid. Perhaps it can be more important out here that they have something like those toy boxes to remind them that they’re just kids. That they should still have something approaching a childhood.’
She inched around the classroom taking everything in.
‘What are these?’ She peered at some cans, empty but for the string lacing through them.
‘Shakers.’ Myles smiled. ‘The kids will fill them with different things, some with grit, some with stone. If food weren’t so scarce, they would usually fill some with rice. Then the men will tie them to their legs and do traditional dancing to celebrate the festive season.’
‘I look forward to seein
g you join in with that.’ Maybe it was dangerous, pushing this tentative truce they’d established, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
To her relief he offered a wry smile.
‘Fortunately for me, I’ve been to a place like this before, so I’ll have an idea of what I’m doing. But don’t think you’ll get away without learning the women’s dance.’
‘Oh, I hadn’t considered that. Luckily for me I’m a half-decent dancer. At least I can keep to a beat.’ She laughed, realising too late that it might be too reminiscent of that night at the ball.
Was it always going to be this way? Talking with Myles as though she were walking on eggshells, not wanting to say anything to cause him to back away.
He was right, a truce was the most sensible option, and it suited her. She didn’t want more than that, of course she didn’t. Because that would have been insane.
And yet, once again, Myles surprised her.
‘I seem to recall that you’re more than a half-decent dancer,’ he murmured, his hand reaching out to tuck her grown-out fringe behind her ears.
It was so gentle, so intimate, that she hardly dared to breathe, let alone move.
‘Do you like Christmas? Back home?’ she whispered.
She seemed to remember he didn’t. Wasn’t that the reason he’d been so happy to accompany Rafe a decade ago? Because he hadn’t had a family of his own with whom he’d wanted to spend the holidays.
‘I don’t remember the last time I celebrated it. At least, not the way you’re thinking. If I wasn’t on a tour of duty or some exercise, then I usually volunteered to stay in barracks to cover duties to let the men with families go home.’
Why did she feel compelled to ask him the questions she knew he wouldn’t care to answer? What was this urge she had to get to know him? To understand what drove him to be a surgeon? A soldier?
‘You don’t have a family.’
‘Not one I’d care to waste my time going to see.’
At least he wasn’t shutting her down outright. Then again, it probably would be wise to let it go.
‘Why not?’
He glowered at her, his eyes almost glittering with unspoken distaste. If he’d turned and stalked out of the classroom she wouldn’t have been surprised.
Instead, he spoke. Although it was as though every word were being dragged, kicking and screaming, from him.
‘My mother gave birth to me, and she just about managed to drag me up. That’s about the top and bottom of what she did for me. She had four more kids, Debbie, Ralph, Ally and Mason, all to different men. She was that desperate for love, for a man, that she did stupid things. She was pretty pathetic.’
The accusation sliced through Rae. It was all too horribly familiar. Was that why Myles had been so very disgusted by her sex tape? With her?
‘What about your dad?’ she managed to choke out.
‘Never knew him. Only Debbie knew her dad, not that it did her much good. Ralph died when he was a baby, cot death. Ally was on drugs by the time she was sixteen. Possibly Mason made it out, but I was gone by then, I’d joined the army, got them to sponsor me through a medical degree.’
‘Oh.’
‘Wishing you hadn’t asked?’
She shook her head but didn’t dare answer. Perversely, it felt more like an honour that he’d even told her that much.
‘They make your family look like the Waltons.’
‘You already met my family,’ she countered. ‘Aside from Rafe, who grew up with his mum in England when my dad left them for my mum, they’re hardly the most...loving people.’
‘Love is overrated.’ The humourless laugh made her feel sad, as though she wished she could steal away some of his obvious pain.
Pain he would deny if she was foolish enough to try to point it out.
‘Is that why you devoted yourself to the army instead?’
His eyes bored into her and, for a long moment, she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
‘Maybe. And now I’m out and I have nowhere else to go.’
‘You could be a surgeon out here, or places like it.’
She shouldn’t feel so hopeful. So keen.
‘This isn’t the life for me.’ He shook his head and she felt oddly deflated. ‘Not any more.’
‘Do you really hate being out here?’
‘It brings back memories.’
She didn’t know who was more shocked. Her, or Myles himself. Tentatively, she spoke.
‘Rafe mentioned that you might be dealing with some level of PTSD.’
She wasn’t at all surprised when this time he didn’t answer, deflecting instead with a question of his own.
‘Do you really love it?’
Despite her disappointment at Myles shutting her out, she found it impossible to stop the smile from cracking her face.
‘I do. I didn’t expect to, and I know it’s only been five days but it feels...good. I feel good.’
‘I can see that,’ he murmured softly, surprising her.
‘You can? I thought perhaps I looked out of my depth?’
‘You don’t,’ he assured her. ‘And it isn’t just how you appear. It’s what people are already saying. Seasoned volunteers who have done multiple medical missions are talking about your skill, your adaptability, your compassion.’
Her skin prickled at his words, making her feel unexpectedly proud. Ten feet tall. So why did the confession come bubbling out of her?
‘Sometimes I feel lost. Well...every day, if I’m honest. Back home I might deal with lots of straightforward pregnancies and labours, with a handful of complications thrown in. Here, they’re all complicated, and some multiple times over.’
‘I know that feeling.’ He nodded. ‘I found that it worked to approach it a bit at a time, doing a little bit and then another little bit, and then another, until there was nothing left to do.’
‘I know. But sometimes that’s easier said than done.’
‘It’s daunting, but you just have to be confident. You need to remember that even if you haven’t ever seen any multi-part complications before, you’ve probably got all the pieces in your head from doing them at different times. Maybe a C-hyst here, or identifying uterine arteries during a bleed there. It’s just a matter of putting it all together for one patient, here.’
* * *
‘I was worried I wasn’t good enough. As much as I’m loving it, I’m also finding it a lot harder than being back home. Here almost all the cases are complications, especially obstructed deliveries and UTIs but there’s very little for us test-wise. There just isn’t the equipment to work things up so we have to treat empirically and I’m always hyper aware that if I make the wrong call, if I draw the wrong conclusion—especially since so many of the symptoms could be any number of things until it’s too late—the patient can die.’
‘Every mortality rate is high out here. Maternal mortality, infant mortality.’ He nodded gently. ‘It’s a fact of life out here that we don’t have to worry about the same way back home.’
‘Your home or mine?’ she joked weakly.
‘Both.’
‘So I just muddle along, and I try to do the best I can, but I can’t help wondering what I’m bringing these kids into.’
‘You can’t think like that. You just have to know that you’re giving mother and baby a better chance than they would have if you weren’t there.’
‘And being alone can be frightening,’ she added after a moment. ‘Sometimes exhilarating but sometimes frightening. I’m used to having other obstetricians around me to bounce ideas off, but there are so few of us and so many women in labour that we usually don’t have time to stop and discuss cases, or possible diagnoses, or whatever.’
‘You’re the only one who can decide what to do.’ He nodded.
‘Exactly. And wh
at if I make the wrong decision? Or hit a vessel? Or—’
‘Shh.’ He stepped forward abruptly, his hands reaching out for her shoulders. ‘You might think you’re the only one with these fears but you’re not. Everyone is feeling the same but, like you, they just have to get on with it. And like I said before, you’re a good doctor, Rae. Everyone values your contribution. What’s more, they all like you.’
‘Thank you.’ Her brain scrambled for words. He was so damned close that her body was going into overdrive. But she couldn’t ask the one thing that she really wanted to know.
‘Especially me,’ he added brusquely.
Almost as though he could read her mind and couldn’t help but answer her unspoken question. Even though he hadn’t wanted to admit it.
Rae stayed silent, not wanting to break the spell. Not when his hands moved from her shoulders to cup her face, not when his thumb dragged deliciously slowly across her all too sensitive lower lip, not when he lowered his mouth to claim hers with an intensity that thundered through her body and to her core.
He kissed her over and over. Hot and wild and uncompromising. And she couldn’t get enough. Standing in that deserted building, clinging onto Myles in much the same way she’d clung onto him the night of the charity gala, and dreaming of doing more—so much more—with this man.
But more of anything with Myles was too dangerous. She knew that. She should pull away now, end things before they went too far.
In the end, however, it was Myles who broke the moment. His expression was stern but his eyes were still dark with desire, and his voice was too husky, too fractured.
‘We can’t do this.’
‘No,’ she agreed, her throat closing up.
He hesitated another moment, then walked them out, wordlessly. The sun was not yet up and their matched strides were the only sound in the silent camp. To Rae, it felt as though they were almost slowing down as they walked, as if each wanting to prolong the time together, yet neither of them prepared to admit it.
And then they were at the door to her room with Myles inching slowly backwards and her standing on the threshold, unable either to put her hand out to stop him or to go inside.
Christmas with Her Bodyguard Page 10