Mistletoe Kiss with the Heart Doctor

by Marion Lennox

  And that was as personal as she’d got. She’d shaken hands formally at the end of the evening and that was it.

  Back to the occasional phone call. Back to being friends.

  Back to the rest of her life.

  They were almost at the end of their gift list now. There was a bundle of new fishing sinkers for Tom Hammond, a dozen assorted envelopes of different poppy seeds for Chrissie Harding and they’d be done.

  And then there was a stir at the doorway. She looked up to see a group of strangers gathered at the glass doors. A mix of maybe twenty people? It included young couples, a few older folk, a smattering of kids. A woman holding a baby.

  They were all dressed in Santa hats, even the baby.

  This must be the group who’d booked out Bob Cruikshank’s cottages, she thought. The cottages had only been three-quarters done when, in September, a team of builders had arrived from the mainland and completed the job in weeks. Bob had been going around looking like the cat that got the cream ever since, but he wouldn’t say where the money had come from to bring in the builders, nor would he say who the first occupants would be.

  A family group? Who?

  It was Maggie who opened the door, but she put her body in the way of anyone entering. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, kindly but firmly. ‘This is a private function.’

  And then there was a stir in the group. It parted and someone from the back made their way through.

  A man. Tall, dark, lean. Wearing a Santa hat.

  Marc.

  Elsa had been standing by the Christmas tree, handing presents to Bob Cruikshank, who’d been playing Father Christmas. Bob, the realtor whose thigh had healed beautifully after his argument with the chainsaw, held out his arms in welcome.

  ‘Ho-ho-ho!’ he boomed. ‘These people are welcome, Maggie. These people are a gift to all the island.’

  She couldn’t make any sense of what Bob was saying but it didn’t seem to matter anyway.

  Marc was here.

  Maggie stood aside, stunned, and they trooped in, a weird assorted bunch. Robert rose stiffly from his seat, beamed and shook Marc’s hand. As if he’d expected him? Then Marc led them up to the front of the hall, leaping lightly up onto the stage to where Elsa stood beside the Christmas tree.

  He smiled at her, a huge enveloping smile that made her heart turn over. He took her hands and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her.

  He didn’t. His gaze was a kiss all on its own, but they were in front of a hall full of people. She was totally confused, and maybe he sensed that a kiss would send her right over the edge.

  ‘Happy Christmas, love,’ he said gently, and she felt as if she was over the edge already.

  But then he released one of her hands and tugged her around so they were both facing the audience. Who’d fallen silent, stunned. Expectant?

  Bob Cruikshank was still beaming and so was her grandfather. What the...?

  ‘We have a gift for you all,’ Marc said, his words falling into a void of hushed bewilderment. ‘And that gift might be us. If you want us.’ And then he smiled and motioned to the two gifts left under the tree. ‘But we’ve interrupted. Can Santa give these out first?’

  ‘No!’ It was a roar of dissent from the confused guests, but when it finished there were two faces reflecting dismay.

  Tom and Chrissie.

  ‘Yes,’ Elsa managed, and Tom received his sinkers and Chrissie beamed over her poppies, and then everyone looked at Marc as if he was a genie about to produce...who knew? Nobody knew.

  ‘Can I introduce the new residents of Bob Cruikshank’s cottages,’ Marc told the gathered audience, and proceeded to do just that.

  ‘This couple are Ellen and Graham Parkes,’ he told everyone. ‘Ellen’s an obstetrician, Graham’s a renal physician, and these are their three kids, Hamish, Archie and Kim. Next is Angus Knox, a family doctor, and his little son Noah. Then we have Arthur and Lois Campbell. Lois is a gerontologist, Arthur’s a general surgeon. David Wyndham behind them is an orthopaedic surgeon. Next is Cathy Graham, a theatre nurse. Then Nic Scott, a paediatrician...’

  A host of supremely qualified medics. Here on holiday?

  Apparently not.

  ‘We’re here to see if we can make Gannet Island the centre of the best regional health service in the world,’ Marc said, and Elsa thought her legs might give way.

  ‘No pressure,’ Marc continued, still speaking to the stunned and silent islanders. ‘This is a try-it-and-see. Some are here for quick visit, to see if they like it. Some are here on a month’s vacation, hoping to talk to you all, plus the residents on the outlying islands. We’re all specialists, and all of us would like to back off from our city practices. Our thought is to build up a medical base on Gannet that’s second to none and, in doing so, provide a comprehensive medical service to the outer islands.’

  She stared. She tried to think of something to say.

  She couldn’t.

  ‘We have tentative plans—and funds—to build a helicopter pad and purchase a decent chopper,’ Marc continued, smiling at her before he turned back to the audience. ‘Plus we can afford a decent fast boat, capable of transfers between the islands. We’ll need to extend your hospital. That’ll need your cooperation—everything will need your cooperation—but our approach to the government for funding has already met with unqualified approval. Your Dr McCrae—Robert—has been assisting us from this end. The government funds your health care, either here or in Sydney. It’ll cost the government a whole lot less if every major case doesn’t need to be evacuated.’

  What...? How...? Her jaw had dropped to her ankles.

  ‘This is impossible,’ she breathed, staring from Marc out to the group of newcomers—who were all smiling and laughing—and looking really, really hopeful. ‘How can it possibly work?’

  ‘Your grandfather thinks it can work,’ Marc told her, and Elsa turned to look at Robert. He was grinning as if all his Christmases had come at once.

  ‘These people might just have consulted me,’ he told her happily. ‘I am, after all, Gannet Island’s senior doctor. I had the first call last February, and we’ve been working on the plans ever since.’

  ‘Hey, does this mean I won’t have to go to Sydney for my hip replacement?’ someone at the back of the hall called, and Marc nodded.

  ‘If you can wait a couple of months, mate. It’ll take time to get things in place but surgery such as hip replacements will be our bread and butter. Also obstetrics. Mums shouldn’t have to fly to Sydney to have their babies. If everyone supports us there’ll be far fewer evacuations. But, as I said, there’s no pressure. We’re all here for a try-it-and-see vacation, with no compulsion to commit on either side.’

  There was another moment’s silence while everyone in the hall took this on board. And then another.

  And finally it was the redoubtable Maggie who broke it. She lifted her amazing crocheted hat off her head and walked forward and stuck it on Marc’s head, replacing his Santa hat. And then, as of one accord, there was a rush as every islander tried to put their island caps on the newcomers. The silence was more than broken—the noise in the hall was unbelievable as the incoming medics were welcomed into the celebration with jubilant enthusiasm.

  Elsa stood on the stage and stared out at the melee and thought the ground beneath her was giving way.

  Before a hand took hers and drew her away. Out through a side door, out behind the hall. Out to stand underneath the giant eucalypt, with its towering canopy laced with glorious crimson mistletoe.

  Out to where she could be thoroughly, ruthlessly kissed.

  * * *

  She was being kissed by a guy in a crocheted elf hat with a tail and a pompom. She was being kissed by someone who’d just offered her the world.

  She didn’t believe it.

  But she didn’t struggle. She
couldn’t. This was Christmas Day, the time of miracles, and why not let herself believe for this short, sweet time? Why not let herself be kissed and kiss back as if miracles truly could happen? As if she had any choice?

  And he felt so good. So right.

  His elf hat was drooping forward. The pompom had swung round and was hitting her nose.

  There was nothing like a drooping pompom to mess with the Christmas spirit, she thought dazedly, deciding—deep into a magnificently prolonged kiss—that sense had to surface soon. But not yet.

  Just another few minutes. Minutes of holding him close, feeling herself surrender to his touch, wanting, aching to believe...

  And in the end it was Marc who pulled away, who held her at arm’s length and smiled and smiled.

  And said, ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

  ‘I don’t have a clue what’s going on,’ she managed, and her voice sounded...bruised? She felt bruised...or was it winded? She didn’t have a clue. ‘Is it...? It has to be some kind of a joke?’

  ‘No joke, my love,’ he told her and pulled her in to hug her against him again to kiss the top of her hair. ‘I’m hoping to put everything I own and then some into this venture, so it’d better not be a joke.’

  She let herself sink against him while she tried to make sense of his words. Finally she tugged away. He tried to catch her hands but she was having none of it. She held her hands up as if to ward him off and he accepted it.

  Inside there was the sound of celebration, of shouts of laughter, of welcome. Someone had put the carols back on the sound system. We wish you a merry Christmas, We wish you a merry Christmas...

  A sudden soft wind sent a shower of mistletoe flowers floating to the ground.

  Her head was spinning.

  ‘You know I’m wealthy,’ Marc told her.

  ‘Medical specialists are always wealthy,’ she managed. ‘You gave us two great lift chairs. Plus the incubator. I know that was you.’

  ‘But didn’t I tell you my parents were independently wealthy? Very wealthy. I’ve often thought I ought to do something with the family trust rather than keep it mouldering, ready to pass to the next generation, but indecision has left it in the too hard basket. This Christmas...thinking of the impossibility of black geraniums...and thinking of you... I decided why not?’

  ‘The black geranium isn’t doing so well now,’ she told him, searching for something solid to hold onto. ‘We think it’s the sea air... Sandra’s had to put it in a hot house and hope for the best.’

  ‘I guess there’s a bit of hoping for the best in what I plan to do too,’ he told her. ‘So many things are yet to be decided. But I put feelers out for medics who weren’t focused on income, who put working on an island like this right on top of their list of priorities. Amazingly, one column in the Gazette had them coming out of my ears. These medics aren’t in it for the money. Yes, we have a restricted patient base, but every one of these people value the lifestyle these islands can offer as much as the medicine they can provide.’

  ‘I still can’t believe it,’ she stammered.

  ‘Then watch this space,’ he told her, and he reached out and cupped her face with his lovely hands. ‘This is your own Christmas gift, Elsa. Your generosity to me and to this island has made it possible. Happy Christmas, love.’

  She stared up at him, speechless, and his gaze met hers. There was no smile. His look was deep and sure and steady. His gaze said that he meant every word.

  ‘And I have another gift for you,’ he told her. ‘Or maybe not. Maybe it’s a gift on hold.’

  Releasing her for a moment, he fished in his pocket, then brought out a tiny box, flicking it open to reveal a ring so exquisite she could only gasp. It was a twisted plait of ancient gold with tiny rubies set into each twist, rounding to one magnificent diamond front and centre. It glittered in the sunlight, a siren song, a temptation so great...

  ‘But not for now,’ Marc said softly, and her gaze flew up to his. He was smiling with understanding—and with love? ‘I know that, sweetheart. I love you with all my heart and I believe, I hope, that you love me right back. But your deep loves—your island, your grandpa—they need to come first. If I love you—and I do—then I need to respect that.’

  ‘I...’ She was struggling to get her voice to work. ‘Marc...’

  ‘Yes, love?’ The words were a caress all on their own.

  ‘You blackmailed me,’ she managed, breathless, trying so hard to get the words out. Trying to force herself to sound sensible. ‘Then you...you threatened me. Now you’re trying to bribe me?’

  ‘I am,’ he conceded and—reluctantly, it seemed—he closed the box. ‘But know, my love, that this project doesn’t hang on you agreeing to marry me. I won’t be taking my bat and ball and going home if you reject me. For me this will be a challenge, and I hope I’m up to it. But Elsa, with all my heart I want you beside me as I work on this.’

  ‘I can’t...’

  ‘Hear me out.’ He put a finger on her lips and brushed another kiss onto her hair. ‘Elsa, when I left last year I wasn’t really sure what love was. I was fumbling with emotions I’d never felt before, but if there’s one thing the enforced wait of this planning has taught me it’s that those emotions are true. Elsa, I love you and want you for ever. No matter what else, that’s the bottom line. I want to work on this project, but you take precedence. If these plans succeed then I can see work for me here as a cardiologist, but I’ll learn to prescribe sugar pills and cope with teenage acne if I must. I’ll even give up medicine and learn to fish if that’s what it takes. Because, Elsa, my love is yours and, no matter what you want to do with it, I’ll love you for ever.’

  ‘Oh, Marc...’ She stared up into his eyes, and what she read there... He was speaking the truth. He loved her.

  Her Marc.

  She was trying so hard to be sensible—and suddenly she knew what sensible was.

  ‘Then you’d better give me that ring right now,’ she managed, her voice a wobbly whisper. She reached for the box and struggled through tears to undo the clasp. ‘I love you so much. I know you won’t be happy fishing...’

  ‘Hey, I like fish and chips,’ he told her, his eyes smiling down into her teary ones. ‘That has to be a start.’

  ‘It’s a great start,’ she managed. ‘But Marc, the way I feel about you, the way I’ve been feeling all this year... The way I’ve been missing you... Even if this medical scenario turns out to be too good to be true, whatever happens, I know that I want you as my husband for the rest of my life.’

  There was a long silence at that. A silence where everything changed. Where everything settled.

  Where the pole stars became truly aligned and would stay that way for ever.

  ‘Then I guess that’s pretty much perfect,’ he said huskily, and somehow the box was unfastened again and the ring was slipped onto her finger. It was a trace too big, but there was all the time in the world for them to set that right. ‘So this means that you and me...’

  ‘Us,’ she whispered. ‘Us.’

  ‘Definitely us,’ he agreed—and then there was no space for words for a very long time.

  * * *

  How did Christmas come around so fast?

  How could so much be achieved in so little time?

  Another twelve months, a score of enthusiastic medics, a government badgered by Marc, whose extended circle knew people who knew people who knew people, islanders who were prepared to throw everything they had to give the island group a medical service second to none... Twelve months had achieved a miracle.

  The extension to Gannet Hospital had opened in October but even before that the medics had been working in what had essentially been a field hospital. Most had come for that initial month and simply refused to go home. Bob Cruikshank’s holiday cottages had been full to bursting, and there were now a dozen permanen
t homes either planned or partly built across the island chain.

  There were enlarged clinics now too, on the outlying islands. A dedicated boat. Marc’s chopper plus a pilot who’d also had paramedic training.

  A miracle indeed.

  Bob Cruikshank was playing Santa this year at the island’s Christmas dinner. He’d pleaded for the job and Elsa had gracefully conceded.

  In truth she hadn’t felt at all confident she’d be able to carry it off. For the last week her tummy was letting her down at odd intervals.

  Hmm.

  But she wasn’t thinking of her tummy now. She was watching Marc play Santa’s helper. He was giving a pair of elbow-length leather gardening gloves to the very elderly Rina Ablett who loved her roses above all else but struggled with thorns against her paper-thin skin.

  Rina opened her parcel and beamed, and Marc swept her up into a bear hug before setting her down again and heading back to get the next gift from Santa.

  But not before glancing towards Elsa and smiling that smile that warmed her heart, that said no matter how much he was starting to love the islanders, his heart was all hers.

  As hers was his. Her Marc. Her husband.

  Their wedding had been one special day in November, a ceremony on the bluff overlooking the sea, a celebration that couldn’t be held in the island church because every islander and then some had to be present. Every islander had contributed to the celebration in some way. Every islander had been part of it.

  It had been a day she’d remember all her life.

  Robert had given her away, with pride and with love. Maggie had played matron of honour. Sherlock had been ring-bearer—sort of. He’d been roped pretty firmly to Maggie. There was no way they wanted their ring-bearer scenting a rabbit halfway through the ceremony.

  Not that it would have mattered, Elsa thought mistily, fingering the slim band of gold that sat against her gorgeous engagement ring. Not that any of it mattered, the ceremony, the words, the festivities. Not even the glorious honeymoon they’d just spent in St Moritz. She’d felt snow for the first time and it had been magical.