by Lucy Clark
‘Marty?’ She waited another beat. ‘If you’re not going to speak, I’ll shut the door.’
‘Uh…sorry. You just surprised me, which is kind of ironic as I thought I’d surprise you instead, and, uh, you’ve turned the tables on me and…well…’ He seemed to realise he was babbling and took a step aside and motioned to the Christmas tree behind him. ‘I bought you a tree.’
‘Oh.’ Natalie looked at the lush, green tree and instantly melted. ‘You bought me a tree?’
‘Yes.’ He looked at the tree. Much safer than looking at Nat. ‘Well, for you and Beth. A tree for your place…town house.’ He was babbling again. ‘Er…why don’t you go on up and put some clothes on and I’ll haul it inside?’ He didn’t look at her as he spoke and went to grab hold of the tree, which was lying on the ground.
‘OK.’ Natalie clapped her hands with glee, unable to believe how in just a short time Marty had rejuvenated her spirits and revitalised her mind. She held the door open for him. When he realised she was still there, trying to help him, he turned and glared at her.
‘Go—now—or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.’
She returned his stare, frowning a little. ‘What do you mean?’
Their gazes met and she saw the desire behind his blue eyes. Her own eyes widened in surprise and her breathing intensified. She parted her lips, about to say something, but instead she watched him take a deep breath, his chest expanding beneath his cotton polo shirt, before he slowly exhaled. It was as though he was trying to keep himself under control. ‘Just put some clothes on—please? I have the greatest respect for you and our friendship but that doesn’t mean I’m a saint, Nat. Get dressed and then come and help me decorate this tree.’ His smile was a little lopsided and she felt her heart rate quicken. Finally, the message got through to her brain and she turned, heading for the stairs.
Without looking back, she went directly to her room where she shut the door and leant against it for a moment for support. When she was sure her legs would support her, she quickly pulled on underwear, jeans and a top, before heading back downstairs, her hair still pinned to the top of her head.
‘Right,’ he muttered, as he heard her on the stairs. ‘Where do you want it?’
‘Uh…you choose. We can shift the furniture around if we need to.’
‘Beth won’t mind?’
Natalie smiled. ‘Not when she finds out about the Christmas tree. We were only saying last night that we needed to get one but neither of us has had the time recently.’ She noticed two shopping bags on the floor and peeked inside. ‘Decorations, too? You are a regular Santa Claus.’
‘And I’ll continue being one.’
It took Natalie a moment to comprehend his words and then she chuckled. ‘You’ve been roped into being Santa for the children, haven’t you?’
‘Yes. You could have warned me.’
‘What fun would that have been?’ She crossed to his side. ‘Besides, I think you’ll make a very jolly Santa.’ She patted his flat stomach, then frowned. ‘Although I think you’ll need some extra padding.’
‘Cassie said she has it all under control.’
‘That’s our Cass. She’s the glue that keeps the ward together.’ She paused. ‘Hang on a minute. You only agreed to do it to get on Sister Dorset’s good side, didn’t you?’
‘So?’
Natalie shook her head. ‘I don’t know why I’m amazed.’
‘Hey, we’ve got a bet going here…a bet I plan to win.’
‘That remains to be seen, Williams.’
‘You’d better believe it, Fox, and see it you will.’
She laughed and motioned to the tree. ‘So, Santa, where are we going to put this tree?’
They chose a spot and shifted the tree over, stabilising it. ‘Now, to decorate.’
‘You know, as Santa, you have to read all the letters the kids in the ward write?’
‘What? No one told me that bit.’
‘Oh, yeah. It’s part of the deal. There’s a little posting box in the ward. The kids will get busy all writing letters to Santa and you’re required to read each and every one.’
Marty thought about it for a moment before grinning at her. ‘Then I’ll need to recruit myself some elves.’
‘Elves?’
‘Yes.’ He paused and gave her a cursory glance. ‘I think you’ll do very well as one of Santa’s little helpers.’
‘Whoa, there, Dasher. You’re going a little too fast.’
‘It’s only fair that you help me out.’ When she didn’t look convinced, he grinned and said softly, ‘Don’t do it for me, Nat, do it for the children.’
‘Ooh, you rat fink. You know I can’t resist that.’
‘Aha. The good, upstanding morals win again. You’re such an easy target, Nat. You’re going to have to work hard to protect yourself from all those other people who are just waiting take advantage of you.’
‘Then why are you taking advantage of me?’
‘Because we’re friends, and that’s what friends do.’
‘Oh. Really?’
‘Yes. Really.’
They continued to decorate the tree and received a bit of help from Beth when she finally came home. Just before nine-thirty, Marty stood and excused himself.
‘Oops. Didn’t realise the time. I have to go.’
‘Bedtime for Santa?’ Natalie asked.
Marty waggled his eyebrows up and down. ‘Santa has a hot date.’
‘Now?’ Natalie and Beth said in unison.
‘Hey, that’s the life of people who work shifts.’ He pulled his car keys from his pocket. ‘I’ll see you both tomorrow.’
Beth stood and walked him to the door. Natalie just glared at him. She murmured a grumpy goodbye and when he was gone Beth came back and sat next to her, both of them admiring the Christmas tree.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘Problem? There’s no problem.’
‘Spit it out, Natalie. You don’t like the idea of Marty going out on dates.’
‘What? That’s ridiculous. He can go out with whoever he chooses. He’s a big boy.’ She paused, both of them quiet for a moment before she continued. ‘He just drifts from one woman to the next. It’s not healthy. He’s been doing that for the past nine years.’ She shook her head. ‘I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He told me he was going to keep his emotions in control and not get deeply involved with anyone again.’
‘When did he say that?’
‘After his divorce was final.’
‘Marty’s divorced? Well, that explains it.’
‘Explains his need to shift from one woman to the next? He can’t go on doing that for ever, Beth.’
‘You’re one to talk.’
‘Me?’ Natalie stood and glared down at her friend. ‘I only broke up with Richard a few days ago, which I still don’t think he’s comprehended.’
‘He hasn’t,’ Beth said.
‘Still, am I expected to already have the next guy lined up?’
Beth sighed and crossed to Natalie’s side. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess we’re all protecting ourselves from something.’
Natalie looked at her friend, knowing she spoke the truth. Beth had been terribly hurt in the past as well, which was why she continued on her dating frenzy.
‘You know Marty doesn’t take any of these dates seriously,’ Beth said abruptly. ‘Just like me. I do it because it’s kind of a hobby.’
‘A hobby? You’re afraid of commitment.’
‘Not commitment. I’m afraid to trust a man with who I really am.’
Natalie frowned. Was that what she was like? She had trusted Richard…but only to a certain extent. ‘Oh, this is all too much for this time of night. I know it’s still classified as early in the world according to Marty Williams, but I’m exhausted.’ She gave her friend a hug. ‘I think I’ll go to bed.’
Beth said goodnight and Natalie headed upstairs, giving the Christmas tre
e with colourful flashing lights one last look before she left. Marty’s generosity and caring attitude was something he should share with a woman…a woman who understood and appreciated him. He’d tried it before and had got hurt. She understood that but she hated to think he was wasting himself on one date after the next when he had so much more to give.
‘Give?’ she murmured into the darkness as she stared at the ceiling. ‘Like giving you a look that makes you breathless and your knees go weak?’
She turned over and buried her head beneath her pillow, trying to block out the memory of Marty’s blue eyes filled with desire. The attraction she felt for him was growing every day, and every day she continued to fight it with all her might.
They were friends and that was all there was to it.
By Friday, Marty felt as though he’d accomplished a worthy goal. He’d had six dates and had found time to drop in on Beth and Nat several times during the week.
‘I’m…astonished,’ Natalie said on Friday morning when Marty turned up for an early breakfast. ‘Why aren’t these women at each other’s throats, fighting over you?’ Beth was still asleep and Natalie was enjoying having him all to herself for a while.
‘Because I’m charming, gorgeous and extremely funny. They don’t take me seriously and that’s the way I like it.’ He started pulling out the ingredients he’d need to make pancakes. Natalie shook her head in bemusement, watching him, amazed he knew where everything was.
‘You know, you haven’t changed, Marty. After nine years you’re still holding yourself back, not putting yourself out there.’
‘I put myself out there,’ he said defensively.
‘Not seriously. You need to take the time to get to know someone, to find out their favourite colour, their favourite food. You know, what they like and dislike.’
He shook his head. ‘I tried that once before, remember.’
‘But you’re still repressing all your emotions. It’s not healthy. You can’t bottle up your pain, your hurt about what you still see as a failure. Surely you’re over the divorce by now?’
‘I’m over Gloria and the fact that it didn’t work out—see, time did help—but when it comes to the pain and hurt part, well, I can do without it. And, besides, at least I have a bottle to put things in.’ He began to measure out the pancake ingredients as he spoke.
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning you don’t even have a bottle, Nat. You keep yourself so rigid, so tightly in control that you never let the real Nat out. Sure, you can ask a guy his favourite colour and all that stuff, but what importance does that play when it comes to how you feel about him?’
‘We’re not talking about me,’ she countered, a little hurt at his words.
‘Why not? What is it that makes you so scared? Scared of letting yourself get hurt? I don’t mean annoyed or mad but really hurt. The hurt where you get chest pains, breathing is difficult and just when you think you can’t cry any more, from somewhere deep down inside the gut-wrenching anguish starts to build again and overflows. It overflows so forcefully that you can’t stop it even if you want to. Your whole body shakes, then trembles. You can’t stand, you can’t even sit. All you can do is curl yourself up, forcing yourself to remember to breathe in and out.’
He spoke the words softly but with such personal expression that Natalie knew he’d felt every single word he’d just said and her heart went out to him, sorry for the pain he’d experienced. She shrugged, then grimaced. ‘Well, when you make it sound so appealing, how could I refuse!’
Marty laughed, breaking the sombre mood, and began to mix the batter. ‘Good point. All I meant was, you’ve never felt that sort of intense pain. Sure, when your dad left you felt rejected but I don’t know how many times I’ve said this—and I know other people have as well—it wasn’t your fault, honey.’
‘I know, just as you know your marriage break-up wasn’t solely your fault. I know all that but, still, it doesn’t necessarily filter into the rest of my life. I also have to admit, by the way, that you were right about the men I date. They do look different from my father. Very different. And I also confess that my goal is usually self-preservation. I think if I put myself out there, if I got hurt like you described, I don’t know if I’d have the strength to go on.’
‘Of course you would,’ he countered reassuringly. ‘You’re one of the strongest people I know. Sure, if you feel like a failure you should rely on your friends to pick you up and help you to get back on with your life. That’s what friends do.’
‘And do your friends tell you to just slide right back into the dating scene, going from one woman to the next? No.’ She answered her own question. ‘Real friends listen to you whinge and moan and then help you to get control of your life again.’
‘Control. There’s that word again.’
‘We’re both hanging onto control. So’s Beth, for that matter.’
‘What do I do?’ Beth mumbled sleepily from the doorway.
‘Hold firmly onto your control. It’s called self-preservation and we all have it, even if we express it in different ways.’
‘Is she giving you a hard time about your dating habits again?’ Beth asked Marty. His answer was just to smile.
‘Nat, you think there’s something serious going on between me and all these women, but there isn’t,’ Marty confessed.
‘But you could be breaking their hearts. Doesn’t that bother your conscience? Oh, wait a minute, do you have a conscience where women are concerned?’
‘My darling Nat, you’re taking this much too seriously. I’m just meeting new people, colleagues. We have a drink, a laugh and that’s it.’ He stopped whipping the pancake batter, stuck his finger in and smeared a bit on her cheek. She hadn’t yet put her hair up and as his hand brushed it, the softness almost made him gasp. She was dressed in her usual straight skirt, which came to just above the knee, and a colourful cotton shirt.
‘Hey.’ She rubbed at her face. ‘If you’re not going to play nicely, you can leave.’
‘No, he can’t.’ Beth stumbled to the bench and sat on a stool. ‘As I said earlier in the week, he can drop by as many times as he likes if he’s going to cook for us.’
‘Pancakes, my darling Beth?’
‘Mmm. Yes, please.’ Beth slumped forward onto the bench.
‘Hard night?’ Marty went back to work while Natalie finished making coffee.
‘Hard date is more like it.’ Natalie couldn’t resist teasing her friend, and at Marty’s grin knew Beth wasn’t going to get out of things easily.
‘Who was it?’
‘No one from the hospital. I’ve given up dating colleagues.’
‘That’ll narrow the field. Since when does a registrar have time to socialise with people outside the hospital?’ Natalie quipped.
‘Good question,’ Beth muttered.
‘Where’d you meet him?’ Marty asked.
‘Stuie’s.’
‘Interesting. I take it everything went well?’
‘Uh…not really, and I don’t want a post-mortem.’
‘OK. So…no more dates with the bartender from Stuie’s?’ Natalie asked as she pulled out the frying pan for Marty.
‘I guess not.’
‘Well, cheer up,’ he said. ‘Watch me flip some pancakes while I tell you about my…interesting date last night.’
Beth lifted her head. ‘Who was it with?’
‘Katrina, who works in the rheumatoid arthritis clinic.’
‘I know her,’ Beth chimed in.
Natalie squirmed a little, not sure she wanted to hear the details. ‘Be back in a moment,’ she said, and walked out the room. She went straight to the bathroom and locked herself in. She leaned against the door for a moment before crossing to the sink to splash some water on her face.
She glanced at her reflection. ‘It’s all right. You can do this. You’re just friends. Despite the fact that he makes you feel all mushy inside, you’re just friends.’ She dried her hands and
repeated again. ‘Just friends.’
When she returned to the kitchen, Beth and Marty were both laughing.
‘That’s too funny.’
‘Laughing at Katrina?’ Natalie snapped, a little too quickly.
‘No.’ Marty frowned at her. ‘Laughing at me.’
‘You didn’t call her by the wrong name?’ Natalie asked.
‘I’d like to remind you that I have an excellent memory. What happened was we went to a Kazakhstani restaurant and I totally mangled my order.’
‘There’s a Kazakhstani restaurant in Sydney?’ She raised her eyebrows in surprise.
‘That’s not the point. The point is, if you’ll just keep quiet so I can tell you, I ended up ordering something that was still squirming a little when it arrived.’
‘Eww. Did you eat it?’
‘No. I apologised profusely, sent it back and wished I could order a Vegemite sandwich.’
‘You’re so lame.’ Beth laughed.
‘He’s not.’ Natalie found herself defending Marty. ‘He’s just… “cuisinely” challenged.’ She came and sat by Beth as Marty started flipping pancakes.
‘Thank you, Nat.’ While he waited for them to cook, he found plates and cutlery and maple syrup.
‘How do you remember all these women’s names? I mean, what have you had? Five different dates in six nights?’
‘Six,’ he corrected her, and slid a pancake onto the plate for Beth before pouring another one.
‘My, my. Your little black book will be getting mighty full.’
He smiled sweetly. ‘I don’t use a black book. As I said, I have an excellent memory. One pancake or two?’
‘And what about Sister Dorset? Have you managed to charm her?’
‘No, but I am seriously working on it. I think she almost smiled at me the other day.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘No. I’m serious.’
‘Why? Did you manage to change a two-year-old’s nappy without the proper tools?’
‘No, Miss Hospital Corners, I did not. I merely teased her…in a totally charming way, of course. She loved it. At least, she didn’t scold me for it so that’s a positive sign. And, as I said, she almost smiled. I know it. I was thinking about asking her to the departmental Christmas party tonight but was too scared of her.’