Her Knight Under the Mistletoe

by Annie O'Neil

  “I think we’re happy to carry on as we have been. Or am I misreading the signals, Dr. Wakehurst?”

  Matthew watched her take a moment. Assess him. He could practically see the wheels turning behind those hazel eyes of hers. He wasn’t playing fair. She had a child to support. He didn’t need the money. He just needed to keep busy, and when he’d heard about the A&E job he’d leapt without thinking.

  Heading the SoS Unit—which he should be doing—would be just too painful. Too intense a daily reminder of men who were on the brink. Some they would save. Some they wouldn’t. And it was the ones they couldn’t that would haunt him every bit as much as the memory of his brother did. In the A&E they simply didn’t have the time to care. Just to work.

  “The seven a.m. shift suits me to a T. Thank you for your consideration in asking, Dr. Chase.”

  The sweet smile Amanda was sending his way in no way met her eyes. He didn’t like knowing he was the reason behind it.

  “Good! Well, seeing as you’re both in agreement...” Dr. Menzies cut into the ever-tightening silence with a solid clap of his hands. “I’m thrilled. It was actually what I was going to suggest. In the long run, should the job become a joint position, you’d more than likely be working different hours, but...”

  His glasses slipped low on his nose as he swung his gaze from Matthew to Amanda and then back again.

  “If you can’t work together as a finely tuned team the whole exercise is pointless. So, shall we say for the rest of December the two of you will carry on as you have been, with more of an eye to seeing how the pair of you work as a unit? Rather than using one-upmanship to showcase your medical skills which, as we all know, are exemplary.”

  Matthew sensed a growing build-up of steam in his bloodstream. This was all very playground, and he wasn’t into games. He had half a mind to chuck the whole thing in and sign up for another—Ah.

  He huffed out a reluctant laugh. Part of the test, was it? His usual remit was to cut and run to the world’s worst places. Prove to himself that there were people fighting demons darker than his own. Funny how living a “normal” life seemed so out of reach. The wife. The kids. The blasted picket fence. None of it seemed achievable.

  He glanced across at Amanda, busy processing the new terms and conditions in her usual cool-as-a-cucumber fashion. She looked up and their gazes clashed, then meshed. A normal life might not seem achievable. But with Amanda at his side he had the feeling the Bankside A&E was never going to be the same again.

  “Right, then.” He briskly crossed the room, dropping his patient forms in the out-tray by the door and rubbing his hands together before swinging the door open. “Guess we’d best get to it.”

  * * *

  A few hours later Amanda was eying the board for her next patient. She reeled round at the sound of a woman screaming for help.

  “My boy! My baby boy! Please help!”

  She ran around the counter, banging her hip so hard on the sharp corner she nearly saw stars, but she heard the fear in the woman’s voice and swallowed down the pain.

  A twenty-something woman was holding a writhing body in her arms—an infant. Perhaps five...six months old. The swaddling was coming loose and it was all the woman could do to keep hold of him.

  Amanda reached out and took the child in her own arms, scanning the area for anyone who would help.

  Dr. McBride saw the situation and sent her straight to a resus room. Amanda didn’t waste a moment looking back. She knew the mother would follow her.

  “Let’s get this little guy on his side on a gurney.” She checked to make sure the baby’s airways were clear. “What’s his name?”

  “Robbie,” the mother sobbed, her Irish accent thickening as she continued. “Is my baby going to be all right?”

  “He’s seizing. It should pass in a minute. I know it’s frightening to watch.”

  Amanda calmly held the child in place, checking by touch for fever and by sight for any signs of a rash.

  “Has Robbie been ill recently?”

  “No. Nothing. He’s a healthy little boy. Smaller than most, but he’s been fine.”

  “And you’ve noticed absolutely nothing out of the ordinary?” Amanda glanced at the mother, who had come round to the other side of the table. “Look—see. There we go. He looks to be coming out of it.”

  As the baby settled Amanda ran through a quick series of tests, including a look into the child’s eyes. What she saw chilled her to the bone.

  “He’s not done this before?”

  “No. No.” The mother kept shaking her head, then stopped, her eyes widening. “He has been struggling a bit with stiffness and a wee cough, but I thought it was just growing pains.”

  “Okay.” Amanda nodded.

  That wasn’t it. Babies were built to grow at a rapid rate in their first year, and she could tell just from the child’s slight build that something was...off.

  She clapped her hands, out of sight of Robbie, who was now turned toward his mother. No response. She waved a hand just along his peripheral vision. Again, no response.

  Robbie’s response to light and sound wasn’t what it should be and, more worryingly, when she rolled him on to his back and used her light pen to look into his baby blue eyes she saw little red dots. Cherry-red. Right in the center of his retinas.

  Amanda could barely stem the rush of emotion she felt. It was rare. But she’d seen it before. Tay-Sachs disease. An incredibly cruel, genetically inherited disease that all but guaranteed the child would die before he was five years old.

  But before she said anything she’d need to run some tests and get a second opinion.

  She could hear Matthew speaking with someone just outside her curtain—wrapping up a case, from what she could gather. Tay-Sachs wasn’t his area of expertise, but...

  Not asking for help just because of pride is foolish.

  This wasn’t about her. It was about her patient and she’d taken an oath.

  Big breath in and then she tugged the curtains apart after asking Robbie’s mother to wait for just a couple of minutes while she conferred with a colleague...

  “Dr. Chase, could I borrow you for just a moment?”

  Matthew turned to her, his eyes widening a bit in surprise. Since their “telling off” they had been doing their utmost to avoid any interaction at all. It just seemed easier that way.

  She quickly explained the situation and watched as Matthew’s expression turned sober.

  “Are you absolutely sure you saw it? We don’t want to cause the mother undue worry.”

  Amanda nodded. She could tell Matthew was asking the question more out of concern for the patient rather than second-guessing her visual diagnosis.

  “Shall we take a look together? Use me as an extra pair of hands to take the blood and DNA tests. If you’re wrong, you can blame the extra tests on me being over-cautious.”

  She gave him a smile of thanks. “That’s kind, but I don’t need you to fall on your sword for me.”

  “I know. But...” He hesitated.

  Would he?

  Everything in her stilled. Would Matthew be prepared to give up his lifestyle to be a father to their child?

  She sought his eyes for answers, and when none were forthcoming she forced the conversation forward.

  “Go on. What were you going to say?”

  He blinked and smiled, as if they’d each come out of a moment frozen in time and nothing more intimate than a simple handshake had ever passed between them.

  “Best we prove we can work as a team, right?”

  Amanda nodded. That wasn’t what he’d been going to say, but she’d take it. Far better to have their relationship amicable when he found out that the bond they shared went much deeper than...

  She stopped the thought be
fore it had a chance to form fully. This wasn’t the time or the place to let him know they could be much more than a team. They could be a family.

  Before she could respond Matthew was in the cubicle, pulling the curtain shut behind them and introducing himself to Robbie’s mother. “Is it Mrs. O’Shea?”

  “Miss.” Robbie’s mother sniffled. “His father and I were never married.”

  Matthew nodded, and rather than comment on the information began steadily explaining the tests he was repeating—tests that Amanda had already conducted.

  “Irish name, is it?” he asked, then looked up at the mother with a smile. “I’m detecting an accent.”

  She nodded. “We came over a few months ago and...um... London didn’t suit his father.”

  “What? The finest place on earth?”

  Matthew feigned surprise to cover up what was blatantly obvious. Parenthood hadn’t suited the father. The defensiveness in her voice had all but spelled it out.

  Matthew finished his eye exam, then looked across at Robbie’s mum. “Well, that’s enough of poking my light stick in poor little Robbie’s eyes.”

  From the change in his tone Amanda didn’t need to look at Matthew to know he’d seen exactly what she’d seen. The bright red dots.

  “Dr. Wakehurst, I’d like to take a small blood sample, if you agree. And a DNA test as well—if that’s all right, Miss O’Shea?”

  “Please, call me Jenny. But...” Her expression was pained and she clutched Amanda’s arm. “I don’t understand why you need a DNA test. His father knows he’s the dad—he’s just not interested in being in Robbie’s life. We’re fine on our own. I just want to know what happened today.”

  “Nothing to do with paternity. The tests are all part of dotting our i’s and crossing our t’s.” Matthew explained calmly, methodically putting together a tray of all the needles and other equipment he needed.

  “Won’t taking the blood sample hurt him?” Jenny’s fingers flew to her mouth. “The poor lad’s been through so much already today—is it really necessary?”

  Amanda gave Jenny a gentle smile and laid her hand on the anxious mother’s arm as she pulled over a small cart with the necessary supplies. “We just want to get to the bottom of why Robbie seized today. Perhaps you could hold him in your arms and give him a good cuddle while we get everything together? Babies can tell when their mums are stressed.”

  “It’s kind of hard not to be when it’s your little boy. My parents are gone. He’s all I’ve got.”

  Tears welled in her eyes and Amanda strained to keep a check on her own emotions. This must be terrifying for her. All alone in London, without the father of her baby. No. Worse. Knowing the father had no interest in being a part of his little boy’s life.

  She knew that if she looked at Matthew now she would betray what she feared most from him. Rejection.

  This isn’t about you.

  Amanda forced herself to regroup. If this poor baby did have Tay-Sachs disease, Jenny would be facing a dark future. As soon as they had the test results she would know whether or not her little boy would die within the next few years. And then she really would be all alone.

  Over the next few minutes Amanda and Matthew kept up a steady stream of dialogue, explaining what they were doing, distracting Jenny with questions about Christmas as Matthew delicately inserted the butterfly needle and withdrew the necessary amount of blood. They swabbed the inside of Robbie’s cheek for DNA and labeled everything for the lab.

  Amanda couldn’t help but be impressed by how gentle and caring Matthew was. He threw her the odd curious glance—surprised, she supposed, that she had effectively let him take over the treatment while she acted as his nurse.

  He deserves to know. Deserves to know he has a child.

  “Right, then, Jenny. It looks like we have everything we need here. Dr. Wakehurst, would you like to take her to one of our private rooms to wait?”

  Amanda nodded. She knew what he was saying. If the news was bad Jenny would need her privacy. For tears. Possibly screams of despair. The disbelief. The heartache.

  “Good idea.” She looked Matthew squarely in the eye, parted her lips to speak—and suddenly couldn’t say a word.

  She mouthed thank you, then turned to escort Jenny and Robbie down the hall.

  CHAPTER SIX

  MATTHEW LOOKED AT the test results and felt his stomach drop.

  Tay-Sachs. No doubt about it.

  He thanked the lab technician for prioritizing the tests and headed down the corridor to the lift. What a miserable piece of news to deliver. He knew it shouldn’t make a difference that it was the holiday season, but his brother’s death had tainted this time of year for him forever. Miss O’Shea would no doubt come to hate Christmas as much as he did.

  His heart ached for the mother and her child. As he punched the button in the lift for the ground floor the unease cinching round his heart tightened. It was Amanda he was thinking of. What her reaction would be when she heard the news. How she’d deal with it. She had a child. A little boy, if he remembered correctly.

  Of course it was a little boy. There wasn’t a thing about Amanda Wakehurst he could forget if he tried. He wondered whether the father was involved in their lives, then forced himself to stop. She’d made it clear that her personal life wasn’t his business, but the more he worked with her...saw the layers that made up this woman who was both complicated and purely individual...the more he caught himself thinking, This isn’t enough. I want to know more.

  The moment the lift doors opened he saw Amanda, body poised, eyes alert, as if she’d been expecting him at this exact moment. And when their eyes met she knew. She knew what lay in store for their patient and his mother.

  He thought he’d seen it before. Her vulnerability. But up until this very moment he’d read the faltering in her bright smile whenever their eyes met as the competitive edge of a woman used to getting what she wanted.

  Not anymore.

  The slight tremor in her hands as she approached showed him plain as day that Amanda was every bit as human as he was. Fragile, even. But she wore her tough-girl attitude like a bulletproof vest. Probably even slept in it.

  As his heart all but pounded straight through his chest he was shocked to feel a growing desire to protect her from anything that would dim the light in those warm hazel eyes of hers.

  Wordlessly, he handed her the test results. As she processed the news he saw a complication of emotions cross those eyes of hers. Sorrow. Fear. Pain. And when she lifted her gaze to meet his he was humbled to see what shone through most clearly.

  Empathy.

  “She’s in one of the family rooms. I’ll go tell her.”

  Matthew reached out and touched her elbow, as if it would lessen the weight of the task. “I’ll come with you, if you like.”

  Amanda considered him a moment, took a step back, then shook her head. “No. If the father’s not in her boy’s life I think she’ll probably need a woman giving her the news. A mother.”

  For a microsecond he thought he saw her eyes mist, but just as quickly the moment had passed. She was a professional. And she would deliver the news compassionately.

  He watched as she turned, the shake in her hands now imperceptible, and opened the door to explain the genetic disorder that would change the O’Sheas’ lives forever.

  A rush of rage filled him that life could be so cruel. So...arbitrary. Just as it had been with his brother. Depression in a soldier of note... A man who had risked his life to save so many others...

  Matt pushed off from the wall he’d been leaning on with his heel. Work. It was the only way to drown out the demons.

  As he passed the room Amanda was in he heard a cry of disbelief. A cruel reminder that some demons were worse than others.

  * * *

/>   “Looks like someone needs a drink.”

  Amanda secured the top button of her coat and forced a wry smile to her lips before meeting Matthew’s inquisitive gaze. “That obvious?”

  Matt nodded, his expression gentle. Concerned. “If I said I could tell from a mile away would you be offended?”

  “Not really.” She huffed out a deep sigh. “I can’t imagine my day was tougher than any of those you had out in Afghanistan.”

  “I’d say it was on a par.” He crooked his arm and offered it to her. “Bad things can happen, no matter where you are. Drink?”

  Amanda’s head tipped back as she laughed. “I’m guessing you’re not going to take me to the Optimists’ Club.”

  “Is there such a thing?” Matt tucked Amanda’s hand into the crook of his arm. “C’mon. Let’s get you out of here and have a glass of—”

  He pulled back and looked at her. He’d been about to say champagne, but she would hardly want to toast such an awful day with bubbles.

  “Christmas cheer? I can never resist mulled wine,” Amanda confessed, her expression lightening a bit.

  “If you insist.”

  He’d gone for jocular and ended up sounding truculent. It wasn’t her fault he hated Christmas. And it was not his intention to further dampen her spirits.

  Amanda pulled her fingers out of the crook of his arm and stuffed both her hands deep into her coat pockets. “I should probably get back home. Give my own little guy a hug.”

  She glanced up at the wall clock. He saw her waver. Just enough to make him try again.

  “A glass of mulled wine would do us both good. Give you a chance to shake the day off before you see him. Lady’s choice of venue?”

  He offered her a little half-bow and a hopeful smile. Going home wearing such a heavy cloak of sorrow wouldn’t be good for anyone. Not that he was responsible for Amanda’s happiness or anything. But he could take her for a drink. As a colleague. That was hardly pushing the boat out.

  Or slipping a ring on her finger.

  Where had that come from?