Harlequin Medical Romance December 2015 - Box Set 1 of 2: Playboy Doc's Mistletoe KissFrom Christmas to Forever?Miracle Under the Mistletoe (Midwives On-Call at Christmas)

by Tina Beckett

  There was a moment’s stunned silence. He wanted to smile at the vision of Polly with her chest out and tummy in, but he was too...what? Hornswoggled?

  Focus on her parents, he thought, because focusing on Polly was far too discombobulating. Her parents, cancelling their amazing Christmas. The best restaurant in Sydney...

  ‘Won’t your parents be paying for the restaurant?’

  Polly nodded, and then her smile faded.

  ‘They will, but they won’t mind, and that’s something I need to talk to you about. My parents are over-the-top generous and also over-the-top extravagant. They have the money behind them to back that up. Hugo, if that’s likely to be a thing between us...if you mind...then maybe you’d better say so now.’

  What was she saying? There were undercurrents everywhere. The question from Ruby, and Polly’s answer, kept reverberating in his head.

  Do you love us?

  I might. I don’t know yet.

  And now...

  If her parents’ wealth was likely to be a problem, say so now? Was she thinking future?

  ‘Polly...’

  ‘Because they’re coming and they’re bringing Christmas with them,’ she said, more urgently now. ‘I rang them and said I’d love to have them here, but we have a few specific requirements. So Mum’s taken it on as a personal challenge and she’s loading the choppers as we speak...’

  ‘Choppers?’ he said faintly.

  ‘A truck would be better but if the residents of Wombat Valley insist on destroying all roads, you leave us with no choice. So, are my parents welcome or not?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, even more faintly because there was no choice.

  ‘Great.’ She gave him a wobbly smile and then she turned to Ruby. ‘Ruby, if you really want—if you really, really want—then my mum and dad can put you and your Uncle Hugo into one of their helicopters and take you to the beach. That’ll be fine with me. But can I tell you... My mum and dad organise some of the most exciting Christmases I know. One year I even woke up and there was a snowman in my bedroom.’

  ‘A snowman...’ Ruby breathed and Polly grinned.

  ‘I know. Ridiculous. Ruby, I don’t know what they’ll do this year but I know it’ll be a Christmas to remember. And it’ll be a family Christmas. It’ll be you and your Uncle Hugo, and me and Hamster, and my mum and dad. And presents and lovely things to eat and more presents and Christmas carols and fun. And family. You and your Uncle Hugo can go to the beach after Christmas because I’ll stay on until you can, but I’d love you to stay at least until tomorrow. I’d love you to share my Christmas.’

  And then there was silence.

  The whole world seemed to hold its breath—and Hugo held his breath even more.

  The generosity of this woman...

  She’d come here to escape. She’d been bruised and battered and bitten and yet she was staying. More, she’d now invited the very people she was running away from.

  She was doing this for him, he thought. The helicopters could be an escape for him and for Ruby—or they could mean something more. So much more.

  A family Christmas...

  ‘How did they put a snowman in your bedroom?’ Ruby sounded as shell-shocked as he was but the fact that she required more information was encouraging.

  ‘It was made with packed ice. We were in Switzerland. Christmas was stormy so we couldn’t get out, but that didn’t stop Mum getting me the Christmas snowman she’d promised me. It sat in a little paddling pool so it could melt without damaging the hotel’s carpet. It had a carrot for a nose and chocolates for eyes and it was wearing my dad’s best hat and scarf. Dad got crabby because they got soggy. But there won’t be a snowman this year. Mum never repeats herself. There’ll be something just as exciting, though. But you don’t need to be here, Ruby. You can still have fish and chips on the beach with your Uncle Hugo—if you want.’

  And Ruby looked at Hugo. ‘What do you want to do?’ she whispered and there was only one answer to that.

  ‘I want to stay with Polly.’

  ‘Then so do I,’ Ruby whispered and then she smiled, a great beaming smile that almost split her face. ‘As long as it’s exciting.’

  ‘If Polly’s here, I think we can guarantee excitement,’ Hugo said gravely, although there was nothing grave about the way he was feeling. He was feeling like a kid in a toyshop—or better. ‘Christmas with Polly can’t be anything else but excitement plus.’

  * * *

  The Hargreaves senior arrived two hours later, two helicopters flying in low and fast from the east. They landed on the football oval and it seemed half the town came out to see. The Christmas Eve service had just come to an end in the Valley’s little church. The locals were wandering home and they stopped to look.

  They saw Polly being enveloped.

  Polly’s mother was out of the chopper before the blades stopped spinning. Olivia was wearing a bright, crimson caftan with gold embroidery. She had Polly’s auburn hair—possibly a more vivid version. Her hair was piled in a mass of curls on top of her head, and her huge gold earrings swung crazily as she ran.

  Charles Hargreaves was small and dapper and he didn’t run, but he still covered the distance to his daughter with speed.

  Polly simply disappeared, enveloped in a sandwich hug which looked capable of smothering her.

  Hugo and Ruby stood on the sidelines, hand in hand, waiting to see if she’d emerge still breathing.

  For Hugo, whose parents had been...restrained, to say the least, this display of affection was stunning.

  Ruby’s jaw had dropped and was staying dropped. The combination of helicopters, Polly’s over-the-top parents and the effusiveness of the greeting left them both awed.

  But eventually Polly did break free, wriggling from her parents’ combined embrace with a skill that spoke of years of practice. She grabbed a parent by each hand and drew them forward.

  ‘Mum, Dad, this is Dr Denver. And Ruby.’

  Charles Hargreaves reached forward to grasp Hugo’s hand but Olivia was before him. She surged forward and enveloped him in a hug that matched the one she’d given her daughter.

  ‘You’re the dear, dear man who saved our daughter. Snake bite. Snake bite! And us not even knowing. Of all the places... And you saved her. Putting herself at such risk... We knew she shouldn’t leave Sydney. Never again, that’s what we said, Charles, isn’t it? Never again. And what about her blood sugars? What if she’d died out here? I don’t know how we can ever...’

  Enough. He was enveloped in silk and gold and crimson and he had a feeling if he didn’t take a stand now he’d stay enveloped for Christmas. He put his hands on her silk shoulders and put her firmly away from him.

  ‘Mrs Hargreaves, I’m not sure what Polly’s told you, but your daughter’s made a very good job of saving herself.’ He said it strongly, forcibly, because a glance at Polly said that this was important. Her face had sort of...crumpled?

  Never again, her mother had said. What sort of strength had it taken to tear herself from these two? But she’d voluntarily brought them back—so he and Ruby could have Christmas.

  ‘Polly’s the strongest woman I know,’ he continued, and he reached out and took Polly’s hand. It seemed natural. It also seemed important and Polly’s hand clung to his and he thought: he was right. These two were like bulldozers, and their daughter stood a good chance of being crushed by their force.

  ‘But don’t accept my word for it,’ he continued. ‘The whole Valley agrees. Polly came to this town as the fill-in doctor. She saved two lives the day she arrived. She looks after her own health as well as everyone else’s, and she spreads laughter and light wherever she goes. You must have brought her up to be a fiercely independent woman. Her strength is awesome and the whole of Wombat Valley is grateful for it.’

 
; They were taken aback. They stared at him, nonplussed, and then they stared at Polly. Really stared. As if they were seeing her for the first time?

  ‘She has diabetes,’ Olivia faltered and Hugo nodded.

  ‘We have three kids with Type One diabetes in the Valley. Polly’s already met one of them. Susy’s a rebellious thirteen-year-old and Polly knows just what to say. If Susy can get the same control Polly has, if she can make it an aside to her life as Polly has...well, I’m thinking Susy’s parents will be as content and as proud as you must be.’

  And it sucked the wind right out of their sails. It seemed they’d come to rescue and protect their daughter, but their daughter was standing hand in hand with Hugo and she was smiling. She had no need of rescue and her armour was reforming while he watched.

  ‘Polly said... Polly said you might bring a snowman.’ Until now, Ruby had been silent. She was on the far side of Hugo, quietly listening. Quietly gathering the courage to speak. ‘Polly says you make Christmas exciting.’

  And it was exactly the right thing to say. Hugo’s arm came around Polly. She leaned into him as her parents shifted focus.

  From Polly to Ruby. From Polly to Christmas. He felt Polly sag a little, and he knew it was relief. Somehow energy had been channelled from saving Polly to saving Christmas.

  Olivia looked down at the little girl for a long minute, and then she beamed.

  ‘So you’re Ruby.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby said shyly.

  ‘Pollyanna said you wanted to go to the beach for Christmas.’

  ‘We did,’ Ruby told her. ‘But now... Uncle Hugo and I want to stay with Polly.’

  There was a sharp glance at that, a fast reassessment. Hugo expected Polly to tug away, but she didn’t. Which was a statement all by itself?

  ‘That’s lovely,’ Olivia said after a moment’s pause. ‘Can we stay too?’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruby said and smiled and Polly smiled too.

  ‘We have spare bedrooms,’ Polly said and Hugo thought we?

  Better and better.

  ‘Then I guess we need to get these choppers unloaded so the pilots can get back to Sydney for their own Christmas,’ Polly’s father said, moving into organisational mode. ‘Can we organise a truck, Dr Denver?’

  ‘A truck?’

  ‘For the Christmas equipment my wife thought necessary.’ Charles gave an apologetic smile. ‘My wife never travels light.’

  ‘Excellent,’ Polly said and moved to hug her parents. ‘Mum, Dad, I love you guys. Ruby, welcome to my parents. My parents are awesome.’

  * * *

  At two in the morning Hugo finally had time to sink onto the veranda steps and assess what had happened over the last few hours.

  Polly’s parents were overwhelming, overbearing, and they loved Polly to distraction. He could see why she’d run from them. They were generous to the point of absurdity and he could see why she loved them back.

  They were also used to servants.

  Right now he’d never been more physically exhausted in his life. Polly, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least exhausted. She was happily arranging potted palms around a cabana.

  There was now a beach where his yard used to be.

  The centrepiece was a prefabricated pool it had taken them the night to construct. They’d started the moment Ruby had gone to bed. That had been six hours ago—six hours of sheer physical work. Because it wasn’t just a pool. The packaging described it as A Beach In Your Backyard, and it was designed to be just that.

  A motor came with the pool, with baffles that made waves run from one side to another. Hugo had shovelled a pile of sand—almost a truckload had emerged from the chopper—to lie beside it. A ramp ran up the side—it could be removed to keep the pool child-proof and safe. A lifebuoy hung to the side. Seashells were strewn artistically around. Polly had done the strewing, making him pause to admire her handiwork. There were also sun umbrellas, deckchairs and a tiny palm-covered cabana.

  ‘Because Christmas isn’t just for children,’ Olivia had decreed as she’d handed over a sheaf of instructions and headed to bed herself. ‘There needs to be somewhere to store the makings of martinis. And margaritas. Polly loves margaritas but she’s only allowed to have one.’

  His eyes had met Polly’s at that and laughter had flashed between them, silent but so strong it was like a physical link.

  ‘Don’t say a word,’ Polly had said direfully and he hadn’t.

  Charles had helped for the first hour but at the first sign of a blister he, too, had retired. Since then Hugo and Polly had laboured non-stop.

  For Ruby’s joy was in front of them. In the hope of Ruby’s joy he’d even allowed Polly to override his own concerns.

  ‘I want to play Santa as much as you do,’ she’d decreed when he’d tried to send her to bed. ‘If you fuss, Hugo Denver, I’ll throw a tantrum big enough to be heard in Sydney.’

  So they’d worked side by side, by torchlight and by the help of a fortuitous full moon. It was hard. It was fun. It was...wonderful.

  Six hours of working with Polly was somehow settling things. There were promises being made, unspoken yet—it was much too soon—but working side by side felt right.

  It was a promise of things to come? The disintegration of the walls of two different traps?

  Whatever it was, now he had a beach in his front garden.

  ‘We’ve taken over.’ Polly had arranged her last palm to her satisfaction. Now she settled onto the step beside him and gazed at the scene before them in satisfaction. ‘Goodness, Hugo, are you sure you want us here?’

  For answer he reached out and took her grimy and blistered hand. It matched his grimy and blistered hand. He didn’t reply. He simply held and the silence settled around them with peace and with love.

  They didn’t need to say a thing.

  ‘They didn’t bring buckets and spades and surfboards,’ Hugo said at last, and Polly cracked a guilty grin.

  ‘I checked the back of your wardrobe,’ she admitted. ‘Hugo, it pains me to admit it but I’m a Christmas snooper from way back. Let me tell you that you’re very bad at hiding. The shapes of buckets and spades and surfboards take skill to be hidden and the back of your wardrobe is chicken feed in the hiding stakes.’

  ‘So you told your parents what not to bring?’

  ‘I told them what I thought the bumpy presents were. Mum might be over the top, but she never tries to outshine anyone.’

  ‘Really?’

  She giggled. ‘Well, she never tries but sometimes she’s very, very trying.’ She hesitated. ‘Hugo, I try not to,’ she confessed, ‘but I love them.’

  ‘They’re hard not to love.’

  ‘You wait until they decide to decorate your bedroom to look like a Manhattan chic hotel...’

  ‘They wouldn’t.’

  ‘Only if they love you.’ She sighed. ‘And they’ll probably make you do the painting. Mum’ll drink martinis and boss you as you paint. Love doesn’t get boundaries.’

  ‘It doesn’t, does it?’ he said softly and his hold on her hand tightened. ‘Polly...’

  ‘Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that,’ she said hurriedly, as if it was important that she said it. ‘I wasn’t hinting...’

  ‘You don’t need to hint.’ He hesitated a moment more, but why not say it? It was all around them anyway.

  ‘Polly, I’m falling in love with you,’ he said softly. ‘I may have already mentioned it but I’ll mention it again now. I have so much baggage I’m practically drowning in it but...’

  ‘By baggage do you mean Ruby?’ She sounded incensed.

  ‘I can’t leave her.’

  ‘I’d never expect you to. But you think you have baggage! I have Mum and Dad and I’ve already figured there’s no use hiding f
rom them. Wherever I am, they’ll be hovering. The term “helicopter parents” takes on a whole new meaning when you’re talking about my parents.’

  ‘They love you. They worry.’

  ‘Which infuriates me. It makes me claustrophobic.’

  ‘Are you feeling claustrophobic now?’

  ‘I guess I’m not.’ She smiled tentatively. ‘You seem to have set new boundaries. They’re recalibrating their position but they won’t stop worrying.’

  ‘Maybe it’s natural.’ His hand held hers, gently massaging her fingers. He wanted her so much, and yet he had to say it. There was no space here for anything but truth. ‘Polly, I’d worry too.’

  She turned and looked at him, square-on. ‘When would you worry?’

  ‘If you let me close. As close as I want to be. And Polly, this Valley constricts your life.’

  ‘Like my diabetes.’

  ‘I guess...’

  There was another long silence. The night seemed to be holding its breath. There was so much behind the silence, so much it was too soon to say or even think, and yet it was undeniably there.

  ‘If you worried,’ she said at last, ‘then I might react with anger. I’ve had enough worry to last me a lifetime.’

  ‘So you might never worry about me?’

  He’d been running the hose into the pool. It was now almost full. The moonlight was glimmering on its surface. A wombat had been snuffling in the undergrowth as they worked. Now it made its way stealthily up the ramp and stared at the water in astonishment. It bent its head and tentatively tasted.

  ‘Happy Christmas, Wombat,’ Hugo whispered and Polly’s hand tightened in his and she smiled.

  ‘It is a happy Christmas. And Hugo, okay, maybe I would worry. Maybe I already do worry. You’re a surgeon with amazing skills. You’ve uprooted yourself, buried yourself...’

  ‘Is this what this is? Burying myself?’

  She looked out again, at the pool, at the wombat, at the lights of the little hospital and at the moon hanging low over the valley. ‘Maybe not,’ she whispered. ‘But I would still worry. And you’d have the right to tell me it’s none of my business.’