Dr Blake's Angel

by Marion Lennox

  ‘You were filleting garfish?’ Nell was successfully diverted. ‘Grace, they’re tiny. I’ve never filleted gars.’

  ‘Yeah, but the old folk don’t want bones. I’ve got time enough to do it and the nurses were good enough to my Jack. It doesn’t hurt me to give something in return.’ She looked down at the crisp white dressing Nell was placing on her hand and sighed. ‘I guess I’ll have to wear a glove now.’

  ‘You mean you’re going back fishing?’

  ‘It’s Christmas in a few days, so fish are in demand, and I might even catch something for myself. It’s not worth having turkey on my own. My next-door neighbour goes to his daughter in Sydney and there’s no one else.’ Her smile slipped, replaced by a pain that was firmly put away. ‘Anyway, I reckon I know where I can catch some Moreton Bay bugs. Bugs would be great at Christmas as a meal for one.’

  Grace was such a brave old lady, Nell thought. Damn, why was she so alone? She forced herself to smile, following Grace’s lead. ‘You can really catch Moreton Bay bugs?’ She’d had the tiny, lobster-like crustaceans before and they were delicious.

  ‘Cross my heart.’

  ‘You wouldn’t like to catch a few for me and Blake?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you and Blake are sharing Christmas?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, we are.’ At Grace’s look of amazement Nell gave her a rueful smile. ‘Whether he likes it or not.’

  ‘Then it’d be my pleasure.’

  Nell’s smile broadened. Grace’s pleasure was obvious, but Grace had said she was having Christmas alone. And Nell and Blake…

  Nell knew instinctively that Blake would make some excuse to head off for house calls. She’d never see him, and the thought of pulling a solitary Christmas cracker was suddenly less than appealing. ‘Grace…’

  ‘Mmm?’ Grace was admiring her dressing.

  ‘You wouldn’t like to join us for Christmas dinner?’

  Her head came up. She was a weathered old fisherwoman, not given to displaying emotion, and she didn’t show any now. Instead, her eyes narrowed into a question. ‘Why?’

  Nell laughed. ‘That’s a bit rough. It’s a very nice invitation.’

  ‘It is, indeed.’ She continued to eye Nell and ran a hand through the fading copper of her hair. ‘But if you and Blake are having it together…’

  ‘You needn’t think you’ll be interrupting any tête-à-tête,’ Nell said bluntly. ‘Blake will find something to keep him busy and I need someone to help me carve the turkey.’ She smiled. ‘Someone with garfish filleting skills might just know how to do the job.’

  Grace gazed down at her hand, and she relaxed. ‘You’d let me carve the turkey? That’ll keep you busy for the rest of Christmas—bandaging what’s left of me.’

  ‘But you’ll come?’ Nell was pressing, but all of a sudden it seemed important.

  ‘You really are making an effort to be part of this town,’ Grace said slowly, and Nell nodded.

  ‘Whether Blake likes it or not. It’s home.’

  ‘It never was when you were a child.’

  ‘No, but it should be now. Inviting everyone who needs a Christmas will make me feel more at home.’

  ‘Does Blake know you’re doing this?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘You don’t think you ought to ask him first?’

  ‘No way.’ She shook her head. ‘He’ll find an even bigger reason not to be there. But will you come?’

  Grace looked at her for a long, long minute, a strange questioning expression on her face. Finally she nodded, and for some reason it seemed the decision had been momentous. ‘Yes, girl, I’ll come,’ she told her. ‘I always was a damned fool for Christmas.’

  ‘Me, too.’ Nell fastened the last of the tape and their smiles met. ‘Not that I’ve ever had one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ But then Grace paused, thinking back. ‘Your grandparents didn’t celebrate Christmas, if I remember.’

  ‘No. And my husband wasn’t very much into the Christmas spirit either.’

  Grace sighed. ‘Oh, girl…’ But then she brightened. ‘Then it’s up to us to make your first proper Christmas great. Who else are you inviting?’

  Nell took a deep breath. ‘Who do you suggest? Let’s make it big. Anyone without someone to share it with them.’

  Grace gazed at her, still with that strange half-smile. ‘You’re giving us a Christmas? After all this town’s done to you?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean you had the pits of a childhood,’ Grace said, her voice suddenly harsh. ‘No one stood up to your grandparents. Your grandpa was the town doctor. We needed him and you and your mother were treated like dirt. What they did was almost child abuse. We stood by and watched, and now you’re organising a Christmas for everyone who needs it.’

  ‘It’ll be fun.’

  ‘We don’t deserve it.’

  ‘Grace, you’ve always been kind.’

  ‘No.’ She seemed seriously troubled, and Nell laid a hand on her arm.

  ‘Please, Grace. Can we forget my childhood? It’s Christmas. I just want to enjoy it. My last Christmas without responsibilities.’

  ‘You’re taking on a load of responsibility, even without the baby. You’re taking on half of Doc Sutherland’s work, and you’re taking trouble over us.’

  ‘Grace, please…’

  Grace took a deep breath. She met Nell’s look head on, and she sighed. ‘You really want to do this?’

  ‘I do. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘And you don’t expect anything in return?’

  ‘What on earth could I want?’

  Hmm. Grace was silent for a long time, and then she hauled a blank piece of paper toward her and lifted a pen.

  ‘Christmas,’ she said, and her thoughts seemed far away. ‘A proper Christmas. How wonderful. Let’s make a list.’

  But she hadn’t answered Nell’s question.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘MRS CONDIE wants to know whether you want Christmas dinner in the hospital.’ There were three days to go.

  Nell had spent all her spare time organising her Christmas dinner, and now Blake’s question caught her unawares. She looked up from wrapping candy canes in red Cellophane, and forced herself to focus.

  ‘You know I’ve asked a few people. I thought we’d eat here. I’m organising food.’

  ‘Mrs Condie will organise it for you. I don’t know how many you have coming but—’

  ‘Grace says maybe twelve.’

  ‘Twelve!’

  ‘There’s a lot of lonely people in this town. But I don’t want Mrs Condie cooking. The hospital kitchen’s cold and sterile and about as unChristmassy as can be. I can do it here. If you help.’

  If he helped… He might have known. ‘I’m normally busy on Christmas Day.’

  She sighed, exasperated. ‘Dr Sutherland, that’s hogwash, and you know it. In every hospital I’ve ever been in at Christmas—and, believe me, I’ve been in a few—there’s always a lull at midday. Morning’s present-giving and church. Then dinner, which lasts for hours. Then it’s time to try out the new skateboard and test the limits of Great-Uncle Donald’s peptic ulcer, so our work begins. But that’s not until about four. What’s your problem?’

  His face was shuttered. ‘Nell, I didn’t ask you to organise this Christmas dinner. It’s all very noble of you…’

  ‘Noble. Is that why you think I’m doing it?’ She was astounded. ‘So I can feel virtuous?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You implied it.’ She met his gaze, her green eyes flashing anger. ‘You don’t think I’ll get as much from this as I put in?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I mean I want to get involved with this community,’ she told him. ‘I want people to like me and I want to like them. In short, I want emotional attachment—something you’re running scared of.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Don’t kid yourself. You are. And for heaven’s sake, w
hat harm can it do? There’s twelve of the town’s old folk coming to Christmas dinner. They want a good time and so do you. And it could happen. If you let it.’

  But his face was closed. As far as Blake was concerned, the conversation was ended. ‘I’ll eat with you if I can.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ And suddenly he was. He looked at her face and thought he’d hurt her. She was trying to hide it, but there it was. Hell, he’d hurt her and she’d had enough kicks already. But she wanted something he wasn’t able to give.

  She wanted commitment—not just to the town’s elderly, but to her.

  And he couldn’t give it.

  ‘I’ll try and share my meal with you,’ he said gently, and her eyes flew to his, her temper flaring.

  ‘There’s no need to patronise me.’

  ‘I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Mean it or not, it reeked of patronising. Blake Sutherland, we’re stuck together for Christmas so you may as well be civil about it.’

  We’re stuck together… He stared at her for a long moment, and then he spun on his heel and stalked away—because he didn’t have the faintest clue how to deal with what was happening. Because he didn’t even know what was happening! And he didn’t want to know.

  For how long were they stuck together? he wondered desperately as he tried to sleep that night. It was getting harder and harder to sleep. Nell was just through the wall, and the memories of that kiss were enough to keep him staring at the ceiling for so long he thought he’d go nuts.

  She could well be here for the whole month. Over two more weeks and maybe longer. He’d driven past her house a few days back and seen it in its unstumped glory. It had broken windows, there were boards missing from the verandah and the whole house was layered with dust. In this town things moved slowly. She’d be lucky if it was finished by the time her baby was born!

  How would he cope with that?

  He wouldn’t have to, he told himself hastily. She’d go to Blairglen for her baby’s birth. She needed to go there at least two weeks before the baby was due, so that gave him an end point of five weeks at the latest. In five weeks he could be rid of her.

  But how would he cope for that long?

  ‘Please, let it be shorter,’ he pleaded to the silence as he waited for elusive sleep. He didn’t want her near. He didn’t want her in this house—he didn’t want her dog, her furniture, her silly damned Christmas tree. He wanted to be alone!

  He slept at last, but if he could have known it his prayers were being answered right now. Because out on the bluff, the town was very much still awake.

  The population of Sandy Ridge was working on making Dr Sutherland alone again.

  ‘Dr Sutherland…’

  It was late afternoon on Christmas Eve and they were nearing the end of Theatre. Scott Henderson had presented that morning complaining of abdominal tenderness. He’d seen Nell, Nell had admitted him and they’d watched for a couple of hours, hoping it might settle. Then suddenly there’d been rebound. A grumbling appendix had burst and a procedure they’d hoped he could have been spared until after Christmas was suddenly urgent.

  At least such an operation was possible now in Sandy Ridge. With Nell there, they’d been able to operate fast and effectively. The appendix had been removed, the peritoneal cavity had been cleaned, a heavy dosage of antibiotics was already being fed in through the intravenous drip and Scott had every chance of being able to eat a Christmas dinner. He’d be stiff and sore, but he should be fine.

  Now there was only the wound to finish suturing. Blake was concentrating totally—that way he didn’t have to chat. If he chatted with anyone it had to be with Nell, and that seemed impossible. So Nell chatted with the theatre staff as she started to reverse the anaesthetic, and Blake was left to indulge in what was starting to seem like sullen silence.

  For heaven’s sake, he was behaving like a spoiled schoolkid, he thought as he sutured. He was being unreasonable. Stupid. And why?

  He didn’t know why. He only knew that to hold himself apart was the only way he knew of protecting himself—so when Marion put her head around the door to call him, he was almost relieved to be called. If he was needed, then Nell could take over and he could get out of there.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘There’s been an accident,’ Marion told him. ‘One of the builders. Out at Nell’s place.’

  ‘What sort of accident?’

  ‘Collapse of a part of a wall. There’s a couple of men trapped.’

  Hell!

  Nell was staring. ‘How can a wall have collapsed?’ she asked, puzzled. ‘They weren’t doing any major structural work.’

  ‘They’re reblocking.’

  ‘That shouldn’t make a wall collapse.’

  ‘You don’t know the tradesmen in this town,’ Blake said grimly. He tied off the last stitch and motioned to Donald to apply the dressing. ‘These guys have been inbreeding for generations and sometimes I think if they had one neuron collectively it’d be lonely.’ He motioned toward Scott, and he was already stripping off his theatre gown. ‘Can you take over here?’

  ‘Of course.’ But Nell bit her lip. ‘Blake, it’s my house. I’m coming, too.’

  ‘I need to go straight away.’ It was as if he was desperate to get away from her, Nell thought grimly, but he was right. He had to leave and she couldn’t go yet.

  ‘I’ll follow. As soon as I’ve reversed the anaesthetic and Scott’s stable…’

  ‘I’ll contact you if I need you.’ Blake let his eyes rest on the bump of her pregnancy. ‘You’ve had a big day, and it’ll be dirty and dangerous out there.’

  ‘It’s my house,’ she said belligerently, and his eyes softened.

  ‘Yeah, I know, but you’re tired. I’ll let you know the damage as soon as I can.’

  ‘I’m coming. As soon as Scott—’

  ‘OK.’ He held up his hands in surrender. There wasn’t time for arguing. ‘I’ll see you soon.’

  She was tired. Half an hour later Nell was in her little car, travelling out toward her house and hoping desperately that there was nothing major wrong, but overriding her problem was the wave of fatigue that was threatening to overwhelm her.

  The last few days had been busier than she’d ever expected them to be, she thought as she drove. There’d been all the organisation for Christmas, and, as well as that, she seemed to have been needed medically.

  She grimaced as she rounded the headland and steered the car up the long driveway to the house. Blake had insisted that she still only do morning surgery, so she should have had heaps of time. She should have been out at her house every day, seeing what the builders were doing.

  But it seemed like every time she went toward her car there’d been someone hurrying toward her, or the phone would ring and it would be…something. Marg Connors wanting a woman-to-woman chat about how to tell the facts of life to her daughter. Grace wanting to talk about the merits of installing a security system so if she fell at night she could get help. Bob wanting to know whether his mother should move into a nursing home. It was always things that might normally merit a trip to the doctor, if the doctor had been less pressed than Blake.

  The town had elected her their alternative doctor, Nell thought as she drove, and she should be grateful. She was sparing Blake work. But now she didn’t have a clue what was happening to her house and her back ached with a dull, sickening throb.

  She’d been standing too long over surgery, she thought. She should have sat to give the anaesthetic, and now she had to cope with a collapsed house and injured men—and a turkey that needed stuffing before she went to bed that night!

  ‘Merry Christmas, Dr McKenzie,’ she told herself wryly as she drew to a halt. ‘After all, you asked for this…’ And then she stopped, and stared up at the house.

  It wasn’t the same house.

  She must be dreaming. But she wasn’t. The house was standing where it had stood for a hundred years—her grandparents’
house—but what a difference!

  Gone were the broken windows, the peeling paintwork, the tilting verandah. This was a house that hadn’t been seen for years—in fact, Nell didn’t remember her house ever looking like this.

  From her grandparents’ time the house had been painted a dull mission brown. Now the house was the palest of soft yellows, almost cream but not quite, and it was trimmed with a grey-blue that took its inspiration from the sea. The windows were spotlessly clean and there wasn’t a broken pane. They swung wide to the sea and they were laced with curtains that Nell had never seen, each of the same blue with the softest cream on their inmost border.

  What else? The wide verandah had a new railing. The floorboards were polished redwood, smooth and gorgeous. Nell climbed out of the car and crossed the verandah, still feeling as if she were dreaming.

  She hadn’t been near the place for a week, she thought dazedly. When she’d rung the builder she’d been told he was struggling to get things done. He’d sounded totally unorganised and Nell had despaired of moving out of Blake’s before the baby was born.

  And now she could.

  But…the wall? The collapsed wall? Where on earth…?

  It didn’t exist. Of course it didn’t exist. It had simply been a ruse to get both doctors here. Instead of casualties, as Nell opened the wide front door there were a hundred people—maybe more. Balloons. Banners. Huge signs. ‘Welcome home, Nell. Welcome home!’

  She couldn’t believe it—but they were all watching her, waiting for her reaction. Blake was there, too, with a very strange expression on his face. He must have been surprised as well, she thought. They’d kept this a secret from both of them. People were smiling at her. Laughing.

  Blake wasn’t smiling.

  He should be. This meant she could get out of his life earlier than either had dreamed possible.

  She could go now.

  ‘What do you think?’ It was Grace, the lovely wrinkled old fisherwoman, still in paint-spattered overalls as if she’d just this minute put the finishing touches to the walls. Which indeed she had.