Christmas Knight

by Meredith Webber

  But wait for what?

  The locum who wasn’t coming?

  An explanation of why Vi had contacted Grant and, more to the point, why he’d come?

  Kate stared up at him, hoping the horror dawning in her mind wasn’t visible on her face.

  ‘Did you—No, you couldn’t have—Surely not—’

  ‘Are you going to finish any of those questions or is it a new guessing game that hasn’t reached the wilds of Byron Bay?’ he asked.

  ‘Why are you here?’ she asked, though reasonably sure she’d asked it before and the answer hadn’t helped.

  Grant did the arms-outstretched thing again and she managed, with difficulty, not to think about sex.

  ‘I’m your locum.’

  ‘You’re a doctor?’

  On a scale of one to ten, her disbelief would have ricocheted off the chart at about one hundred and seventy-five.

  ‘Y-you can’t b-be!’ she stuttered, answering her own demand because he was doing the hurt look again. ‘You were always more interested in animals than people. Why be a doctor?’

  ‘Well, there was a time when you were going to be a missionary and save the heathen, until I pointed out to you that most of the so-called heathen had perfectly good religions of their own and wouldn’t want you.’ He grinned, again, and added, ‘And as you’re obviously not a missionary, why shouldn’t I be a doctor?’

  Kate couldn’t find an answer to that question. He’d been bright enough, though his extra-curricular activities of chasing either cattle or girls had meant his high school grades had never been excellent.

  But the question of whether or not he was a doctor wasn’t the issue—him being here was. She’d intended for her locum to live in—the house was certainly big enough for two people and a very small, almost minute baby—but having Grant Bell move in was asking for—well, the only word for it, though certainly not strong enough, was trouble.

  She had to say no—to stop this before it went any further.

  ‘I wanted a woman—Vi knew that. I put flowered sheets on the bed.’

  Even before she’d finished speaking she knew it had been the wrong thing to say.

  Grant didn’t smile but she suspected laughter was lurking in his eyes when he said, very gently, ‘I don’t see flowered sheets as an assault on my masculinity.’

  ‘But we’ll be sharing the house,’ Kate protested.

  ‘Worried about what people will think?’

  She looked blankly at him.

  ‘If I was worried about what people think, I wouldn’t have come back here single and pregnant,’ she snapped. ‘I’m worried—’

  She stopped dead. Telling Grant Bell the truth—that she was bothered by the thought he’d see her, tired, rumpled, milk-smelling and at her most unattractive as she ambled round the house in the early hours of the morning, grouching and grumbling as she tried to get with it enough to organise her day—just wasn’t an option.

  ‘You’re worried?’ he prompted.

  ‘About sharing the house—sharing the kitchen and the bathroom. These old houses only ever had one, you know, and the baby cries, you’ll be disturbed.’

  ‘More disturbed than a woman by a baby crying? What happened to sexual equality? Or doesn’t it apply to crying babies?’

  The storm rumbled closer and a loud clap of thunder, followed by a vivid flash of jagged lightning, sent Kate scurrying back to the bedroom, certain the baby would be woken.

  ‘Storms always come from the west, so I’ll shut the doors on that side of the veranda,’ Grant called after her.

  Perhaps if he showed how useful he was it would make up for him not being a woman.

  Though she was worried. He had seen it in the stiff set of her shoulders, the way her arms had wrapped protectively around her body, but her concern only made him more determined to stay—to help Katie Fenton, who, according to Aunt Vi, needed quite a bit of support right now.

  He followed the veranda around to the front of the house and went into the hall, turning first into the lounge room to shut the two sets of French doors in there, then the dining room, thinking all the while of Katie.

  He’d looked into her huge green eyes with the dusty gold lashes and seen the strain repeated there. Was it he who bothered her, or would any man have generated the same response?

  And why?

  Because whoever had fathered the baby had let her down?

  That must be it. The bastard had turned her off men for good.

  So if he neutralised himself in some way…

  ‘What about your bike?’ Kate called, and he cursed as he dashed back outside through raindrops as big as peanuts. Seeing Katie Fenton again must have rattled him more than he’d thought it would, as he’d forgotten to put the bike away.

  He wheeled it into the garage where it fitted nicely beside the dark green Subaru she must drive.

  A sensible, neutral kind of car, saying nothing much about the owner.

  Neutral!

  Neutralise. Perhaps he could do something to minimise whatever danger he represented to her.

  He could pretend he was gay, but suspected Katie wouldn’t fall for a sudden change in his sexual persuasion.

  Still thinking, he grabbed his bags out of the luggage compartments and dashed back through the now thundering rain to the house. His shirt was sodden, clinging to him like an—

  Over-friendly woman!

  That was the answer. He might be a man, but a man attached to a woman was safe—neutralised!

  He walked through to the kitchen, knowing from the rattling noises out there he’d find Katie—Kate.

  ‘I must phone Chlorinda,’ he said. ‘Getting this lovely shirt wet reminded me.’

  ‘Chlorinda!’ Kate repeated, in such disbelieving tones he knew he’d made a huge mistake, but for reasons beyond his understanding the name had just popped out.

  ‘My fiancée,’ he explained.

  The disbelief in her voice was equally apparent in Katie’s beautiful eyes.

  ‘No one’s called Chlorinda these days,’ she snorted, and, anxious to retrieve the situation, he tried again.

  ‘Actually—’ big shame-faced grin ‘—her name’s Linda, but I can’t help playing with names and somehow Linda, Chlorinda, you know how it happens. Like K-K-K-Katie, swallowed the ha’penny. Remember?’

  ‘Of course I remember! You teased me with that stupid rhyme often enough.’

  Fierce eyes flashed green fire, but he guessed the neutralising thing had worked.

  He held up his bags.

  ‘The bedroom? Where have you put me—or put the flowered sheets?’

  She didn’t answer, and the distracted way she pushed at her hair, at the heavy, dark blonde mass of riotous curls, suggested Vi had been right. Katie Fenton was just about at the end of her tether.

  ‘You could stay with Vi,’ she said, but there was no force in the suggestion, and before he’d had time to object she contradicted herself. ‘But that’s stupid. I wanted the locum here so I didn’t have to change the phone around—so she could take the night and weekend calls.’

  She glared at Grant.

  ‘It’s not a full-time position—you know that, don’t you? The woman who was coming was studying for another degree so didn’t mind it being part time, job-sharing. Although there should be two doctors here. I tried to get the Health Department to agree to pay some of the locum’s wages so it would be full time but that wretched Paul Newberry hasn’t resigned. Apparently he’s on stress leave…’

  The distraction—almost panic—was in her voice now as well, and Grant found it hurt him to see Katie Fenton, who’d always been willing to take on the world—and any stupid dare her schoolmates had ever dreamed up—so uncertain.

  ‘Look, why don’t we sit down and have a cup of tea? In fact, you sit and I’ll make it. It will show you how useful I am, and anyway, you’ve probably been doing far too much straight after the birth of the baby.’

  She gave a funny little smile t
hat held a hint of the Katie he remembered.

  ‘Didn’t you once tell me that in some countries women gave birth in the fields, wrapped the baby in a sling across their backs and kept working? I’ve been reminding myself of those stoical souls for the last ten days!’

  ‘I was probably exaggerating—or the book I read it in wasn’t telling the entire truth. And anyway, that’s not you, so sit. I’ll find the tea—or would you prefer coffee—no, you shouldn’t have coffee, we don’t want the baby addicted to caffeine from birth, now, do we?’

  ‘Ten minutes in the house and already you’re giving orders?’ Kate said, but she sank down into the chair, certain she’d be better able to handle the situation while seated. She’d been tempted to say she wanted coffee, but she’d managed to wean herself of the caffeine habit while pregnant, and now, while the smell of coffee still pleased her, drinking it made her feel queasy.

  She sank lower in the chair, and watched Grant Bell opening and shutting cupboard doors, the situation so bizarre it was easier to believe she was dreaming. In fact, she was tired enough for it to be a dream.

  Then, because watching him was disturbing in ways she couldn’t begin to understand, and bringing back not only the happy memories but the anguish she’d felt when he and his family had left town so many years ago, she leaned forward, folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them.

  Just for a moment, she told herself, as her eyes slid shut.

  Surprised to find she’d given in so easily, Grant turned to ask about milk and sugar, and found his companion sound asleep.

  She must be exhausted, he thought, while the mix of pity and anger he felt made him wonder if the ‘knight in shining armour’ concept was as good as it had seemed back on the beach at Byron Bay, where the waves had been practically non-existent and he’d been bored by the holiday that had barely begun.

  But whatever he felt, it was obvious Aunt Vi had been right. Katie Fenton needed help.

  And he’d been available.

  He made himself a cup of tea, and found a couple of cracker biscuits he could eat with it. If she had cheese—

  A thin wail stopped his explorations of the refrigerator, and, certain Katie would wake if the baby continued to cry, he shot through to the bedroom, hesitating momentarily before bending to lift the tiny form from the crib. He actually hadn’t thought about the baby part when launching into his knight act, but now he was here he’d just have to cope. After all, it was just another anonymous baby, like the hundreds he’d handled at the hospital over the last year.

  ‘I didn’t even ask your name,’ he said, holding it close against his chest. ‘And now you’re making my shirt even wetter. But I can fix that. I’ll change you. Would that be nice?’

  Talking, rocking, moving all the time, he looked around the room. There was a pile of folded nappies on the dressing-table, and various boxes and bottles of lotions and potions squashed alongside them.

  ‘I’ll check out the system Katie’s using as I undress you,’ he said, placing the little one on the bed then unwrapping a loose cotton cover from around it. ‘Do the blue flowers on your singlet mean you’re a boy? We’ll soon find out, won’t we? Though you’re not as new as I thought you must be!’

  He touched the still red navel, surprised to find the remnants of the umbilical cord already gone, then undid the nappy, discovering the new arrival was a girl. The system obviously decreed a blue nappy liner inside the nappy. Well, that was easy—they were in the box.

  ‘Little Katie!’ he murmured, leaving the outer covering flat on the bed while he gave in to temptation and marvelled at the miniature limbs and digits—the tiny, perfect finger-and toenails. His heart tightened, memories crowding in, but he couldn’t help but tell her, ‘You’re beautiful, did you know that? Does your mummy tell you all the time?’

  He fastened the nappy with deft, remembered actions, found a clean cotton sheet and rewrapped his charge, but the idea that Katie Fenton was the mummy in question was causing him as much internal confusion as the baby.

  ‘She was always trouble,’ he told the infant as he returned her to the crib. ‘I was always getting her out of it.’

  He rocked the crib until the little eyelids dropped and dark lashes fanned out over rose-petal cheeks.

  ‘Or getting her into it,’ honesty forced him to add.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE ringing noise startled Kate awake, but she’d been so deeply asleep it took a moment to realise where she was. Asleep at the kitchen table?

  And dreaming of Grant Bell, of all people!

  By the time she’d set the dream aside, wiped what felt suspiciously like drool from her cheek and stood up, the ringing had stopped, but there was another noise—more unusual, frightening even. A man’s voice!

  As she walked, slowly and cautiously, towards the living room she realised Grant Bell hadn’t been a dream. He was here—right in front of her, now she was in the doorway—and apparently intending to stay.

  Her locum!

  ‘Yes, Mrs Barrett, it’s great to be back. No, I haven’t seen Vi yet, but if George’s in pain, shouldn’t we be talking about him?’

  He paused and Kate imagined the torrent of words pouring through the receiver from Mrs Barrett.

  ‘She’d talk under water,’ Grant said, smiling happily at Kate as he hung up. ‘George has had a back spasm. Has it happened since you’ve been here? Any advice or should I just go out there and help the poor chap onto his bed and order him to stay there until it gets better?’

  ‘I haven’t seen him as a patient since I’ve been here,’ Kate said, then honesty forced her to continue, ‘Haven’t seen a lot of the older men. Going to a woman doctor is evidently a worse admission of weakness than going to one of the males of the species. If they were desperate, they went to the hospital to see Paul—when he was here!’ 21

  She’d barely finished speaking when another thought struck her.

  ‘Actually, that’s a good reason for me to go, rather than you. It’s a great way to break the ice and maybe prove something to the man. The Barretts’ place is Kintower, isn’t it? Out on the western road. I’ll get the baby.’

  ‘Get the baby?’ Grant’s voice was charged with disbelief. ‘I’ve just changed her and put her back to sleep and you’re going to wake her and take her out there? In a storm?’

  Damn—Jeez Louise! What the hell was she thinking?

  If Grant hadn’t been there, she’d have thumped her forehead with the heel of her hand.

  ‘I’ll call Tara to come over and watch the baby,’ Kate muttered, moving determinedly towards the phone although her reluctance to leave Tara in charge when she was farther away than next door at the hospital made her head ache. She knew Tara was good, but the girl did tend to lose herself in whatever she was reading…

  Though Grant was here…

  Right here! Grabbing her shoulders, giving her a little shake.

  ‘Get with it, Katie,’ he said, almost roughly. ‘You’ve got a locum so you don’t have to go out on calls. The locum goes, and that’s me. Now’s not the time to be proving yourself to George Barrett or any of the other dinosaurs in town. Now’s the time to be thinking of your own well-being, and if you can’t manage that, at least put the baby first.’

  He was so close Kate could see the dark shadow of beard beneath the tanned skin on his chin—see individual follicles, and the outline of his lips…

  You have a baby and he has a fiancée, an inner voice reminded her.

  ‘Though I will take your car, if that’s OK. You’ve a bag in it?’

  The lips were moving but the words weren’t making much sense as she struggled to come to terms with feelings that had to be a hangover from the past.

  ‘Keys?’

  Keys? Car keys, presumably.

  ‘In the kitchen, hanging over the cupboard near the back door.’ She answered automatically and he moved away. Then, as if released from a spell, her heartbeat settled and her mind began working again
. She hurried after him.

  ‘Have you had any experience as a GP? Are you qualified to be doing this?’

  He turned and grinned at her.

  ‘Rather late to be asking those questions, isn’t it, Katie? What do you think? I’m really a criminal on the run and Aunt Vi is helping me hide with this locum thing? Actually, if you go into your spare bedroom and open the briefcase in there, you’ll see a file with all my qualifications and experience in it.’

  He lifted the keys from the hook, and repeated his question.

  ‘You’ve a medical bag in the car?’

  She nodded.

  ‘In the back,’ she said, and was about to add more when he smiled again.

  ‘Of course, papers can be forged,’ he reminded her, and dashed out into the rain.

  I shouldn’t have said that, Grant admitted to himself as he drove out along the once-familiar road to the Barretts’ property. He was here to help her, not to make things worse. But Katie Fenton had always responded so well to his teasing that the impulse had been irresistible.

  He peered ahead through the slashing rain, looking for the gateposts that marked the entrance to Kintower. For her to have even considered bringing the baby out in the storm showed how rattled she must be. No wonder Vi had sent the SOS.

  But why had he answered the call? The question had nagged at him on the five-hundred-kilometre ride northwest, and, though he had plenty of glib replies—the surf was poor, he was bored with holidaying, Katie had been a friend, seeing Testament again so he could finally shut the door on the past—none of them seemed particularly satisfactory.

  Particularly not when you considered the baby as part of the equation—although when Vi had phoned, the baby had, supposedly, been many weeks from the due date.

  Or Vi had deliberately not mentioned its arrival…

  The gateposts appeared and he swung cautiously off the road, aware that the red soil shoulders turned to treacherously slippery slush with a bit of rain. Thank heavens the Barretts’ drive was sealed. After the long ride, he was glad he didn’t have to handle a slick mud surface, though the neat Subaru, with constant four-wheel-drive, should have performed OK.