A Family-Style Christmas and Yuletide Homecoming

by Carolyne Aarsen

  But not even Charles had managed to get her in such a dither, she thought, doodling on the calendar in front of her. She wanted to see Simon again, she didn’t want to see him again. All too well she remembered their last time together, the touch of his mouth on hers, his arms around her. She remembered the sorrow in his eyes.

  She was sick and tired of her own dithering. In her own lectures to student nurses she talked about patient-nurse intimacy and how it seldom lasted beyond the walls of the hospital. She just didn’t know if she wanted to test it out.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Here are figures on those funds we were talking about before I left on vacation.” Oscar dropped a file folder on the desk beside Simon. “I don’t know why you’re in such a rush on them.”

  “I want to catch them before they go up,” Simon said, clicking on the save icon. He leaned back in his chair, wincing as a twinge of pain shot through his leg.

  “How’s the leg?” Oscar asked, sitting down in an office chair beside the desk Simon had set up in one empty corner of his condo.

  Oscar had balked at moving their office to Simon’s home. Simon had merely stated that it worked easier for both of them. He liked being able to work out of his living quarters. Besides, it gave him another tax write-off. Now he was glad they had done it.

  “Some days are better than others.”

  Oscar shook his head. “I still can’t believe you didn’t try a little harder to get ahold of me. I would have cut my vacation short, you know that.”

  “You were camping. How in the world was I supposed to find you?”

  “The Mounties could have found me.”

  “It wasn’t important.” Simon dismissed his comment by grabbing the file folder. “Tell me a little more about these funds.”

  Oscar’s sigh told him Oscar wasn’t pleased, but they knew each other well enough to know that he would go along with whatever Simon chose to tell him.

  “I’ve checked out the funds, and it looks like they’ve bottomed out and should pick up in the next couple of days. European funds are a better bet than Asian these days.” Oscar tipped back his chair, his hands locked behind his head.

  “Sounds okay. Hear anymore from the contractor on that apartment block in Nanaimo?”

  “He gave me a quote. I’m shopping around for a better one yet, but it comes in where it should.”

  Simon pulled a face. “Don’t get too picky. We’ll do okay, even with the higher quote.”

  “We’ll do more than okay. The cash flow looks pretty healthy.” Oscar glanced around the bare apartment. “I bet we make enough money you could even buy some decent furniture,” he said, his tone heavily sarcastic.

  Simon looked around and shrugged. “I don’t know if I feel like furnishing an apartment. I might sell it.”

  The condo was large, spacious and sunny. Everything the real-estate agent said it would be. But Simon had little inclination to make it a home. It was just like the boat, the trips, all the other toys. Once he had it, it didn’t do what he had hoped it would.

  He had bought a large leather couch and matching chair at the same time he’d bought the condo. A wall unit stood holding only a stereo and some of the books Simon had collected over the years. He hadn’t collected enough possessions over the years to fill such a large space.

  Oscar leaned ahead, his elbows resting on his knees. “Would you feel more like fixing up, say—” he hesitated, his hands spreading out “—a Victorian house on five acres, north of Nanaimo, facing the mainland?”

  Simon leaned back, making a steeple of his hands. “And why would I want to do that?”

  “Because it’s a good deal.” Oscar held up his hand, ticking off the virtues. “The buyer needs to sell it, and because I think you’re ready to buy a house instead of sharing halls and elevators with complete strangers. You need a place to bring a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know about the last,” Simon said, forcing aside thoughts of an angel with soft blond hair and sea-green eyes. Caitlin was out of the question, out of the picture, and he was out of his mind to be even thinking about her. She represented obligations and commitment.

  Family.

  He got up, pushing aside his own thoughts.

  “It’s a great deal even from a business standpoint,” Oscar continued, leaning back with a creak in the old office chair Simon had bought for his apartment. “And since your accident, I sense you’ve gone through some soul-searching, some change-of-heart-type stuff. You might even be ready to, dare I say it—” Oscar lowered his voice, his eyes wide, and did a quick drumroll on his knees “—settle down.”

  “Wishful thinking on your part, Oscar,” Simon said shortly. Oscar was too intuitive by half.

  “After I met Angela, I would walk around with this dazed look on my face, just like you are now. Someone would be talking to me, and I wouldn’t even hear them. Just like you were a few moments ago.”

  “You won’t quit, will you?” Simon said irritably.

  “Nope.” Oscar rocked back and forth, and Simon resisted the urge to snap at him to sit still.

  He was like that more often these days. Irritable and easily angered. Peace eluded him. Before his accident, life had flowed along quite well, but not anymore.

  Now all he could think of was Caitlin and the words she had read to him out of the Bible. The passage that offered comfort and at the same time required more of him than he was prepared to give.

  All he could think of was how he'd destroyed the fragile bond building between them with a kiss born out of anger.

  A kiss that had changed to need and want and a desire to protect and nurture.

  “I’ve got the information you wanted on that company that’s going public,” Simon said, forcing his mind back to business, back to the safe and predictable. “They’re in my bedroom, if you want to get them.”

  “Okay. Change the subject. I can do this,” Oscar said with a laugh, getting up.

  The sudden chime of the doorbell broke the quiet.

  “Shall I get it?” Oscar asked.

  “No. That’s okay. The papers are in a folder beside the bed,” Simon replied over his shoulder as he walked to the door, wondering who it could be. The home-care nurse stopped by only weekly now and she had come yesterday. He wasn’t expecting anyone else to come.

  He worked his way slowly across the living room and then to the hallway. This condo was way too big, he thought, trying not to hurry.

  Finally he reached the door and opened it.

  “Delivery for Simon Steele.” A ponytailed delivery boy held out a form for Simon, who signed it. “Do you want me to bring it in for you?” the boy asked, noticing Simon’s cane.

  “Sure. Just set it on the table there.”

  Whistling, the boy brought in a package, then sauntered out, closing the door on a very curious Simon.

  It was from the Nanaimo General Hospital.

  For a weird and wonderful moment he thought it might be something from Caitlin but when he opened it, surprised to see his fingers trembling, he pulled out his jacket.

  “What was that?” Oscar walked into the room, frowning at the box on the table.

  “My jacket. From the hospital.”

  “You dropped something.” Oscar bent over and picked up a piece of paper, handing it to Simon.

  Simon took it, read it and swallowed. It was a note from Caitlin, asking how he was, hoping that all was well with him. Signed with her name. Underneath that, in smaller letters she wrote that she was praying for him.

  “What’s up, Simon? You look like you’ve been told your biggest stocks just tanked.” Oscar tilted his head, as if to get a better look at his partner. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Simon took a deep breath, rereading the note as if trying to find something else,
some hint of her feelings in it.

  “Who’s it from?”

  “Caitlin,” he said without thinking.

  “Newest girlfriend?” Oscar asked with a grin. “Is that how she got your coat?”

  “No. She works at the hospital. She was my nurse.”

  “Is she why my tough wheeler-dealer partner is looking as mushy as a cooked marshmallow?”

  “Never mind, Oscar,” Simon snapped, dropping the letter in the box.

  “Ooh. Touchy, too.”

  “I wasn’t mushy.”

  “Maybe mushy was the wrong word. Maybe wistful would be better.” Oscar sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart.

  Simon ignored him, putting the coat back on the table. “Can we get back to work?”

  “Sure.” Oscar grinned as he walked back to the desk. He dropped into a chair. “Caitlin,” he said with a tinge of sarcasm and a wink. “I like that name. She’s obviously a very organized and caring person. Sending you your coat like that.”

  “Drop it, Oscar.”

  Oscar held his partner’s gaze, his expression suddenly serious. “I don’t know if I will. I’ve never seen you this flustered, ever. You’re cranky on the one hand and on the other, you seem to take things easier. Like I said, I catch you staring off into space. Definitely twitter-pated.”

  Simon sighed, realizing Oscar wasn’t going to let this one go. “Okay. I like Caitlin. You happy now?”

  “Nope. Not until I know what you’re going to do about it.”

  “Nothing. Zilch. Nada.”

  “Which begs the question, why not?”

  “Beg all you want. She’s off-limits.” Simon got up, rubbing his leg. It ached again, which meant he should probably lie down. But he didn’t want to do that, either. “Did you want to go over those funds?”

  “No. I want to check out that Victorian house on the Island for you, and I want to see you phone the lady who has you all tied up in knots and ask her out.”

  Simon sighed, plowing his hand through his hair in frustration. “By all means, check out the house. Maybe you can move there yourself,” he said, thoroughly exasperated with his partner.

  “Nah. Angela always gets sick on the ferry. You’re more flexible than I am, anyhow. Doesn’t matter where you live. But I’ll check it out for you.” Oscar pointed at Simon, winking at him.

  “Then do it now. Anything to get you off my back.”

  “You know, I think I will.” Oscar bounded off the couch with a grin and shoved the papers into his briefcase. “Catch ya later, pardner,” he said with a smile as he headed out the door.

  Simon glared at it as his partner left, feeling pushed and hemmed in by the people in his life. Oscar would never have dared talk to him as he did a few weeks ago. Simon wouldn’t have let him.

  But as Oscar had said, things had changed. Simon was tired of the loneliness and emptiness of his life. He had allowed Oscar to get closer.

  Had allowed Caitlin to get closer still. The downside was the vulnerability, the obligations.

  Obligations and the promise of a pair of green eyes that haunted him at every turn.

  And the sooner he got that out of his system, the better.

  * * *

  Simon pocketed his car keys, moved the flowers over to his other arm and sighed deeply. A quick glance at his watch showed him that he could figure on the shift change to be happening in about fifteen minutes.

  He gave the arrangement a critical once-over. Looked innocuous enough. Carnations and lilies and a few roses.

  A very proper thank-you-type bouquet, he figured, no strings attached. It was the least he could do after being such a miserable patient.

  He sucked in another deep, cleansing breath, blew it out again, straightened his new leather jacket and then forced himself to move. The December air was chilly, even for the Island, and he hoped the flowers would be protected enough until he got to the hospital.

  Once inside, he felt a slight moment of panic. What if Caitlin wasn’t working at all?

  Well, then, so be it, he thought, sauntering down the hallway toward the ward, trying to recapture the laissez-faire attitude that had taken him through other situations with other women. The kind of attitude that gave him a measure of protection.

  But his cavalier attitude seemed to dissipate as quickly as frost in the sun when he rounded the corner to the ward and came near the desk. He wiped one palm on his jeans, the other hand still holding the flowers. No one was there.

  He looked hopefully around, wondering where everyone was, resisting the urge to just drop off the flowers and go. Then he heard the sound of voices in the room opposite. My old room, he thought, turning.

  Danielle walked out, laughing. She turned her head and stopped dead in her tracks.

  “What are you doing?” Another nurse came up behind her, gave Danielle a light shove and then stopped herself.

  “Hi,” Simon said, shifting the flowers uselessly to the other hand. He couldn’t stop the thrum of his heart at the sight of Caitlin. She wore her hair up today, emphasizing the delicate line of her jaw. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright. She licked her lips once, her hands clasped in front of her, and gave him a curt nod.

  “Thought I’d drop these off for you ladies,” he said, holding up the flowers. “A thank-you for all you did.”

  Danielle gave Caitlin a nudge, who stepped slowly forward. “Nice to see you again, Simon,” Caitlin said softly, taking the flowers. She walked around the desk and set the basket on the ledge, pulling the plastic off. With her eyes still on the flowers, she bent over, sniffing them. “They’re beautiful. I’m sure everyone will appreciate them. Thank you.”

  Her voice was quiet, well modulated, unemotional. Simon wondered if he had done this all wrong.

  He shoved his hands in his back pockets and shifted his weight to his good leg. “You’re welcome,” he said, casting about for something witty and urbane to say. It would have been easy a couple of months ago, but much had happened to him since then.

  “How’s the leg?” Danielle asked, breaking the silence.

  “Good,” Simon replied, glancing at her, his eyes returning to Caitlin who still fussed with the flowers. “It hurts once in a while, but even that’s getting better.”

  “And work? How’s that going? Still dabbling in the stock market? Got any good tips for some poor lowly nurses? Any inside information?”

  Simon forced his attention back to Danielle. “All I can tell you is that helium is up,” he said, grasping for something, anything that would make Caitlin look up from those infernal flowers and at him.

  Caitlin’s head came up at his poor attempt at humor, a grin teasing the corner of her mouth. “I suppose diapers remain unchanged,” she returned quickly.

  Simon felt the tension that held him slowly release and he smiled back at her. “How are you doing, Caitlin?” he asked quietly.

  “I think I should get the report ready for the new shift,” Danielle said to anyone who cared to listen, then left, leaving Caitlin and Simon looking at each other.

  “I’m fine,” she said, looking away again. “Been busy on the ward.”

  “You’ll be done in a few minutes?” He asked it as a question even though he knew what the answer would be.

  She nodded, glancing sidelong at the clock on the wall. “Ten minutes to be precise.”

  “You want to go for a cup of coffee?”

  She looked up at that, smiling again. “Sure. Sounds good. I have to do a report for the new shift coming on and then I’m done.”

  “I’ll wait for you by the entrance,” he said. She nodded her assent and he turned and left, unable to stop his grin.

  Pacing around the entrance took up about five minutes. Synchronizing his watch so that it was on time with the clo
ck in the entryway took another sixty seconds. Running his hands over his hair filled fifteen seconds.

  Shaking his head at his own behavior, he found an empty chair, picked up a magazine and tried to read about landscaping a summer home. He turned the page to an article about the advantages of shrubs in a backyard.

  He thought again about the Victorian that Oscar said he was going to look at. A home. Was he nuts? What did he know about homes and families? Nothing. He had never given himself enough time to figure out how they worked.

  Then what are you doing waiting for Caitlin Severn to show up?

  He threw the magazine down and instead kept himself busy watching the people, his legs stretched out in front of him, feet crossed at the ankles. You’re not proposing to the woman. You’re just asking her out for a cup of coffee, he told himself. You’ve done it hundreds of times before with dozens of other women.

  But none of the other women had shown him what Caitlin had shown him. None of them had encouraged him to return to his faith in God, had nurtured a sense of shame and need.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Caitlin walked down the hall, her steps brisk, efficient. She caught sight of him, then slowed, one hand coming up to smooth her hair.

  Simon got up slowly, ignoring the slight pain in his leg.

  She wore a yellow anorak and blue jeans. Her hair was loose and at the sight, he smiled. She looked more approachable now. Less a nurse, more a woman.

  “Hi,” she said, stopping in front of him.

  Did he imagine that breathless note in her voice? Was it wishful thinking on his part?

  “Hi, yourself.” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket, jingling them a minute, just looking at her. “Any place special you want to go to?”

  “There’s a nice spot past the mall heading up-island,” she said, fiddling with her purse straps.

  “I’ve got my car in the parking lot. Do you want a ride with me?”

  “Sure.”

  “Then let’s go.” They walked in silence out of the hospital, to his car. He unlocked the door for her, watching as Caitlin ducked her head and got in. He walked around the front of the car, his eyes still on her and got in on his side.