Twins for a Christmas Bride

by Josie Metcalfe

  What was that?

  She froze into complete stillness and concentrated, aware that all the textbooks said it was far too soon but …

  ‘There it is again!’ she exclaimed aloud when she felt the faint fluttering, hoping it was something more than gas travelling through her gut.

  When she felt it for a third time she was certain and wanted nothing more than to whoop with delight, no matter that it was pitch dark outside and everyone else in the flats was probably fast asleep.

  But she couldn’t just lie here in the dark and savour it all alone. She had to share the news with someone else or it wouldn’t feel as if it was real. She had to speak to …

  ‘Dan? Did I wake you?’ she asked apologetically when he answered the phone.

  ‘No. I’m in bed but I haven’t gone to sleep yet. What’s the problem? Is something wrong?’

  ‘No. Nothing’s wrong,’ she reassured him quickly. ‘It’s just that I was lying there and … and …’ Suddenly, it felt so wrong to be telling him such momentous news when he was on the other end of the telephone. These were his babies, too, and he should have been here with her to feel …

  ‘There is something wrong,’ he said decisively. ‘I can hear you crying.’

  There was the sound of a crash on the other end of the line and some muttered words that were probably unprintable, then he was back with her again.

  ‘I’m coming over,’ he announced in a don’t-argue-with-me voice. ‘I’ll need you to drop a set of keys down to me out of a window, because you’re not to come all the way down those stairs again.’

  ‘Drive safely,’ she said, worried about his state of mind, but he’d already broken the connection.

  Suddenly, she remembered that he didn’t live more than a few streets away and in that powerful car of his it would only take minutes to get there.

  ‘Keys. Keys,’ she muttered as she heaved herself out of bed, briefly registering that round about the time that she finally had her bulky cast removed it would also be the time when her pregnancy made moving about more difficult.

  ‘So, this is what my life is going to be like for the next few months,’ she grumbled, then subdued a shriek of horror when she caught sight of herself in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door.

  ‘Talk about the wreck of the Hesperus,’ she moaned as she dragged a brush through the tangles put there by her restlessness. At least she wasn’t having to do it with her injured arm. If she’d dislocated her right shoulder she would have been strapped up and completely out of action for several weeks yet.

  And as for what she was wearing … this old T-shirt hadn’t just seen better days, it had seen better years, and was so worn out that it really was translucent in places.

  Before she could strip it off, she heard the deep purr of one of the more expensive makes of car outside the front of the house and her heart did a crazy little tap-dance at the knowledge that Dan had arrived.

  ‘The keys! What did I do with …? Ah!’ She pounced on them and hobbled over to the window, steadying herself against the furniture. ‘Catch!’ she called in a stage whisper as she lobbed them in a gentle arc towards him, then fastened the window as fast as she could and went back to changing her clothing.

  He must have taken all four flights two at a time because he was already at her front door and fitting the key to the lock before she’d pulled a fresh, slightly less disreputable T-shirt on while balancing on one leg.

  ‘Very fetching!’ he teased, and she knew he’d caught sight of one of the packet of thongs she’d bought with him the morning after her accident.

  ‘A gentleman wouldn’t have looked, and if he accidentally caught sight of something he shouldn’t, he certainly wouldn’t have mentioned it,’ she said sternly.

  ‘Whatever made you think that I was a gentleman?’ he said with one of those cheeky grins that never failed to turn her inside out, right from the first time she’d met him.

  Oh, how hard it had been, day after day, forcing herself to keep a strict distance between the two of them and making herself treat him the same as all the other A and E staff.

  ‘So, tell me,’ he said as he guided her back to the side of her bed, the rumpled covers mute evidence of her lack of sleep. ‘What had you so upset that you were crying?’

  ‘I wasn’t upset,’ she denied, then had to blink as her eyes began to fill with tears again. ‘I was lying in bed and I was resting my hand on the bump—’

  ‘You do that a lot,’ he interrupted seriously, once more resting his much longer, much broader hand over hers. ‘I’ve seen you doing it around the department, and when you’re sitting having a break you sometimes stroke your hand backwards and forwards and round and round.’

  For a moment she lost the power of speech. How had he managed to see so much when she hadn’t even noticed him looking?

  ‘I’m sorry. I interrupted you,’ he said, sliding his fingers between hers so that their sensitive tips were stroking her, too. And even though there was a layer of soft stretchy fabric between them, his fingers were so warm that she could feel each one of them and the tracks they made on her skin as clearly as if she’d been naked under his touch.

  ‘You were saying that that you were lying with your hand on your bump, and.’ His voice was deeper and huskier than before, almost as though he was as affected by the contact between them as she was.

  ‘And I felt them move,’ she finished in a whisper, and saw his eyes flare wide in response.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Now he was staring down at the curve that was still almost small enough to be spanned by fingers as long as his. ‘Surely it’s still far too early?’

  ‘That’s what I told myself,’ she agreed, ‘but then it happened again, and a third time and … and I thought you would want to know and …’

  He drew in a shuddering breath and she was stunned to see the bright sparkle of tears gathering in his eyes.

  ‘Oh, thank you, Sara,’ he said, so softly that she almost had to lip-read the words. ‘I can’t tell you how much …’ He shook his head, obviously moved beyond mere conversation.

  ‘I don’t know if they’re still moving, but do you want to …?’ She slid her hand out from under his and lay back across her bed, leaving his much larger hand spread across her.

  It was so silent in the room that she could hear the numbers click over on the radio alarm beside the bed, so silent that both of them seemed to have forgotten to breathe while they waited for something to happen.

  ‘What did it feel like?’ he murmured so softly that it was almost as if he was afraid of frightening them, as if those tiny forms were timid wild animals.

  She concentrated for a moment, recalling the movement deep inside her.

  ‘It felt like a cross between a flutter and a squiggle,’ she said in the end. ‘It wasn’t quite as delicate as a butterfly’s wing—it was slightly too substantial for that. But it wasn’t strong enough to be called a—’

  ‘There!’ he exclaimed with a look of awe on his face as he stared down at the place covered by his hand. ‘Was that what you felt?’

  Sara concentrated for several long seconds and was growing worried that they’d reached the end of the performance when she felt the strongest movement yet.

  ‘Yes!’ she agreed joyfully, overwhelmed to be sharing this special moment with him. ‘That’s exactly what I felt. What do you think?’

  ‘What do I think?’ he asked seriously, a hint of a frown drawing those straight dark eyebrows together. ‘I think it’s boys, because that was definitely the sort of kick that will score goals.’

  ‘Idiot.’ She chuckled, delighting in his nonsense, but when she thought he would take his hand away again, he didn’t, propping himself on one elbow on the bed beside her so that he could leave it just where it was.

  ‘I was being serious,’ he said with a deliberately solemn expression, then asked, ‘What do you think they are? Identical or fraternal? Girls or boys?’

  ‘Or one of each?
’ she suggested. ‘I’ve never understood some people being adamant about the sex they want their baby to be. I’ve always believed that it’s far more important that it arrives as healthy and as safely as possible.’

  Their undemanding conversation had drifted from topic to topic, all loosely connected with pregnancy, labour and the care of newborns, and it was some time before Dan realised that Sara had fallen asleep.

  For some while he lay there watching her, glad that the room was still warm enough so that he didn’t need to cover her with the bedclothes just yet, not while he was enjoying looking at the changes this pregnancy was causing to her body.

  She’d never been as artificially slender as Zara and the soft curves of her burgeoning breasts and the full curve of her swelling belly were so naturally sexy that he’d been hard from the moment he’d walked into her flat and caught a glimpse of that skimpy purple thong.

  Oh, what a fool he’d been, to be taken in by Zara’s spiteful games. How could he not have seen while he’d been reaching for the paste imitation that he’d already had a diamond within his reach? Sara wasn’t just a gifted and hard-working doctor, she was also one of the most genuinely good-hearted people he’d ever met. And, unless some sort of miracle happened, he’d lost her for ever.

  So you’d better make the best of this special time, then, said a stern voice inside his head, and he took the words to heart. It might be the only opportunity he ever had to spend the night with her and he wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.

  In the end, exhaustion got the better of him and the next thing he knew he was waking up with Sara’s softly curvy form wrapped firmly in his arms as if he was never going to let her go.

  ‘If only,’ he mouthed, full of regret, and whispered a kiss over the crown of her head.

  A casual glance towards her bedside cabinet brought her clock into focus and he had to stifle an oath when he saw what time it was.

  He hated having to do it, but there was no way he could untangle himself from her without disturbing her sleep. Besides, her cast had been resting over one of his ankles and he didn’t know whether he was even going to be able to walk on it. It felt as if the weight might have caused permanent damage to his circulation.

  ‘Sara?’ he called gently, hoping he might be able to rouse her just far enough to extricate himself. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve got to go,’ he said a little more firmly when she just tightened her hold on him. ‘I’m going to be late.’

  ‘Late?’ she repeated sleepily, and blinked … then blinked again and stared at him in disbelief. ‘Dan? What are you doing here?’

  ‘You invited me. Remember?’ He only meant to prompt her memory by stroking his hand over the curve of her belly but when he found himself stroking naked skin he pulled his hand away as swiftly as though he’d been burned.

  ‘Sorry,’ he muttered, mortified to feel the heat searing his cheeks as he rolled swiftly out of reach and leapt to his feet.

  His shoes were scattered on the floor and his keys were … under the edge of her bed, and his brain was definitely lodged south of his belt while she was curled up in the middle of all those crumpled bedclothes like a sleepy cat.

  ‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for my shift,’ he apologized, and let himself swiftly out of her flat, then nearly tripped on his way down the stairs when his hormones reminded him that he’d never seen a sleepy cat with such long slender legs … even though one of them was temporarily encumbered with a clumsy cast … or wearing such an outrageous scrap of underwear.

  To lessen the danger that his preoccupation might cause an accident in the early-morning traffic, he forced himself to concentrate on the evidence he’d seen of how well her injuries were healing.

  It hadn’t been many days since she’d cheated death by inches, but already some of the bruises were starting to fade, working their way through the colour progression that marked the body’s reabsorption of the various constituents in the blood.

  He’d only caught a glimpse of her shoulder and most of the injured area was still covered by the strapping that was providing stability and support while the internal damage to the structures in and around the rotator cuff were repairing.

  The grazes on her arm were much better than when he’d last seen them. Then, she’d been with Rosalie, the technician, having an ultrasound to find out if the pregnancy had been compromised, and she’d looked as if she’d been flayed raw almost from wrist to elbow.

  It was all scabbed over now, evidence that none of the damage had gone very deep, and within a few more days she would be left with nothing worse than a deep pink mark on her skin that would probably be completely un-detectable in a matter of weeks.

  The rest of her skin had looked silky-smooth and perfect and he’d longed to explore every inch of it in great detail and …

  Whoa! That sort of thinking wasn’t the right way to keep his car safely on the road. For that, he needed to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow, too, as befitted a married man.

  And if that reminder wasn’t enough to take the shine off a morning that had started so sweetly, with the mother of his unborn children wrapped so trustingly in his arms, then nothing could.

  Sara was cross with herself that she hadn’t remembered to set her alarm the previous night. This morning she’d intended getting up bright and early so that she could go in to the hospital to negotiate her partial return to work.

  By the time she managed to get herself washed and dressed, she was going to arrive hours after the morning shift had started and was going to give the department manager grounds to doubt that she could cope with coming back to work so soon.

  Ah, but she couldn’t really find it in her to regret the reason why her plans had become so disrupted. Feeling the babies move for the first time had been amazing, and it had been made even more magical when she’d been able to share it with Dan.

  Waking up this morning to find that he was still with her and knowing that his body had been wrapped protectively around hers while she’d slept was a bonus she’d never expected, and she refused to feel guilty about it. To have heard that her sister had deliberately ensnared Dan purely out of spite and, worse, that she hadn’t even loved him when she’d married him—the whole situation seemed an utter travesty of everything that a marriage should be.

  ‘If he had married me …’ she whispered wistfully, then gave herself a shake. ‘“If wishes were horses then beggars would ride,” Granny Walker used to say, and I’m just wishing for the moon, too.’ And nothing could come of those wishes because even though Zara might not have loved Dan, he must have loved her or he would never have proposed to and married her.

  ‘And none of that will get this beggar a ride, but a phone call will,’ she declared when she was finally as ready as she could be. She reached for her purse and the business card of her own personal knight on a white charger … or in a black cab if she really wanted to be pedantic.

  ‘Sara! What on earth are you doing here?’ called one colleague when he caught sight of her.

  ‘You’re supposed to be on sick leave, darlin', taking it easy while the rest of us soldier on,’ added Sean O’Malley in his lilting Irish accent. ‘Have you just come to gloat?’

  Everywhere she looked there was the usual morning chaos, except it seemed even worse than usual—or was that just wishful thinking? If everyone was being rushed off their feet, would that mean that she would be welcomed with open arms or would she be seen as a liability and shown the door?

  There was only one way to find out.

  ‘Actually, Sean, I wanted to have a word with the department manager and—’

  ‘Oh. Admin stuff,’ he said dismissively. ‘Well, while you’re in those recently refurbished offices sitting on one of their ultra-expensive chairs, will you remind someone that they still haven’t scraped the loose change together to find us any replacement staff, not even part-timers? And we’re already two and a half doctors down. It’s getting beyond a joke.’
<
br />   The staff in the human resources office reminded Sara of an ants’ nest that had just been given a vigorous stir with a big stick.

  Not that any of them seemed to be moving with the same innate sense of purpose that you’d find among ants. In fact, as far as she could tell, there was interminable duplication of effort going on while they seemed to concentrate most of their efforts on finding reasons why things couldn’t be done.

  ‘Have you found the new staff for A and E yet?’ she asked sweetly, then gave the nest a deliberate extra stir. ‘I heard a rumour that if you don’t find them soon, it may have to be shut down because it’s dangerously understaffed, and all the patients will be diverted to other hospitals. Doesn’t the hospital get a massive fine if that happens?’

  By the time she was shown in for her ‘chat’ with one of the more senior members of the department, the rumour she’d started seemed to have taken on a life of its own.

  ‘Have you any idea exactly how long you’re going to need to be on sick leave?’ the man asked from behind a desk that was laden with piles of paperwork nearly tall enough to hide behind.

  ‘That’s what I wanted to talk about,’ she said brightly. ‘The only thing wrong with me is this cast on my leg.’ After all, the strapping on her shoulder was invisible under her clothing. ‘And the wheelchair is only for show and to give my arms a rest from using crutches.’

  It was such a long way from the truth that she almost expected to feel the searing heat of a thunderbolt from on high, but what she got instead was an administrator almost grovelling at her feet when she offered to pitch in to do an hour or two in minors to help clear the backlog. There was absolutely no mention of health and safety regulations, at least not in relation to her own fitness to work. The poor man seemed far more worried about the national disgrace that would ensue if his accident department was summarily shut down due to lack of staff.

  ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Dan growled when he finally had a moment free to get into minors.

  All morning he’d been regaled with one after another of his colleagues telling him how good it was to see Sara looking so well, and what a good job she was doing, and what a clever idea it was to have her ploughing her way through all that time-consuming debriding of wounds and painstaking stitchery, leaving the more mobile staff to do the rest of the work in the department.