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“Look, you’re going to have to go to him.”
Diane frowned. “Why?”
“There’s a party goin’ on, and he’s not about to leave right now. We got Santa and everything.”
Diane laughed in understanding. “Okay. Lead the way.”
She took only her stethoscope with her as she followed Ron. There was music and a lot of loud conversation coming from a space at the end of a corridor. The noise from the other end only got louder as they approached. There was a room to the left that turned out to be the communal dining hall.
At the back of the room, near the door, the adults stood or sat watching the excitement of perhaps fifty children and adolescents at the front of the room as they waited to meet with Santa Claus and receive a gift.
Diane couldn’t help but smile at the cheerful chaos as kids roughhoused together, or shouted to be next, or played with gifts already opened, or sat staring dumbfounded at the man at the center of attention, Santa Claus.
She began to chuckle when she realized he was the tallest, thinnest Santa she’d ever seen. Not that that mattered to the kids. He was seated in a chair raised on an improvised platform. For all their hardships and deprivations, the children clearly believed in this Santa who’d made a special trip from the North Pole just to see them.
“That’s Qa’Shawn over there. The kid jumping up and down. I told him not to do that,” Ron said, worried.
“That’s actually a good sign.”
“Well, let me go get him. I told him someone special wanted to meet him ‘cause he passed out yesterday. He thinks he did something special,” he said, bemused.
Diane found a little spot by herself out of the way of the celebration. It was a moment before she became aware that Santa appeared to be sending covert glances at her. But then he went back to being jolly and attentive to the kids. They seemed to find it pretty cool that he was a black Santa behind the snow-white beard. He cast her another long look and then ignored her.
“Qa’Shawn, this is Dr. Diane. I told you about her. Say hello.” Ron gave the youngster a light nudge.
“Hello,” the boy murmured.
He was maybe nine years old.
“Hi, Qa’Shawn.” Diane smiled at him.
“You a doctor for real?”
“I am.” She held out her stethoscope. “See.”
“I know what that is. You listen to a heart with that. Can I try it?”
Diane placed the ear tips of the headset lightly into his ears and then put the diaphragm against the boy’s chest. After just a few seconds his eyes grew wide.
“I hear noise in there. Is that my heart?”
“Hope so,” Ron said. “If you don’t hear anything you’re in deep trouble.”
But the boy was too fascinated with the sounds coming through the instrument to try and figure out Ron’s macabre joke.
“Can I listen, too?” Diane asked.
Qa’Shawn relinguished the headset to her. Diane put it to her own ears and listened, using the tunable diaphragm to make adjustments. After a minute Diane removed the headset, looping the stethoscope around her neck. She grinned at Qa’Shawn. “Sounds like a lot of rushing water to me.”
The boy laughed but was already getting antsy to get away.
“I don’t want to keep you from Santa. Nice meeting you, Qa’Shawn.”
He shouted goodbye and took off like a shot.
“Well?” Ron asked in a quiet voice.
“I hear a murmur. Could mean his heartbeat’s a little irregular. It’s not unusual and it’s not normally dangerous, but I’d like to see Qa’Shawn at the hospital.”
Ron frowned. “Not tonight.”
“No, it can wait until after the holidays, but I’d like to run some tests to see what we’re dealing with.”
Ron nodded solemnly. “I’ll make sure it happens. Anyway, if we try to pull him away before Hale finishes his Santa act…”
“Hale?” she asked faintly.
“Yeah. Hale Cameron. Good buddy of mine. I had to beg big-time to get him here, and threaten him if he didn’t wear the suit. I can’t help that it’s too big.”
Diane had already turned her attention back to the front of the room where Hale, unrecognizable under the Santa garb, was acting the part and talking the talk and keeping a lot of children very entertained. Except for those few moments when he was distracted by her presence, Hale was all about the business of being Santa Claus.
“He owed me a favor and I called it in,” Ron continued. “But he would have done it in the end. I just had to work on him a bit.” Ron laughed. “I want you to meet him.”
At that Diane headed out of the room, back to Ron’s office. “Some other time. He’s busy and I should be going.”
“Well, I’m not going to keep you. You’re probably on your way to a party right now.”
Not, Diane thought to herself.
They’d almost reached Ron’s office when he was called aside by a resident complaining that someone had stolen his sneakers and backpack. Ron had to deal with it. Diane quickly got her coat and bag. Running into Hale Cameron twice in as many weeks was starting to make her feel cursed. Before she got to the door, her BlackBerry silently signaled there were messages once she was back to the hospital.
Her position didn’t allow her to ignore them. Perching on the edge of Ron’s desk, Diane scrolled through her e-mails and text messages. Fortunately, there was no emergency, just several colleagues wishing her a happy holiday and friends inviting her to join them for drinks. There was another invitation to yet another party, and a request for the name of a particular doctor.
Totally wrapped up in responding, she paid no attention to the voices and conversation in the hallway. Diane was just finishing her last post when one voice stood out distinctly from the rest. She was instantly spurred into action, and she scrambled to grab her things and get away. The door was ajar and she put her hand out to pull it open. It was pushed from the other side, forcing her to step back quickly.
Santa Claus filled the doorway.
Silently, her heart palpitating with a fight-or-flight reflex, Diane stared at the man behind the guise. For a very long moment neither said anything and it was impossible for her to tell what was going through Hale’s mind since she couldn’t see all of his face or much of his eyes. She also made the quick observation of how funny he looked behind the fake snow-white beard.
Standing so close in front of him, she could smell the storage chemicals on the rented Santa suit and she could smell Hale’s cologne or aftershave. Plus a little bit of male heat.
“’Scuse me,” she murmured, not looking into his face as she tried to slide past him through the doorway.
“No problem,” he murmured back.
“Don’t move! Perfect! Man, I couldn’t plan this.”
Curious, Diane looked at Ron. He pointed to the door frame over her and Hale’s head. He looked up, too. The evergreen bouquet was fixed and ready. Ron burst out into loud, satisfied laughter.
“Don’t just stand there,” he encouraged. “You’re supposed to kiss each other.”
Diane’s gaze flew to Hale’s, her eyes wide with surprise. And fear. She was about to protest but never got the chance.
Hale suddenly seemed to swoop forward and she couldn’t move. The thick wooly beard was ridiculous, but soft and kind of ticklish. Through it she felt the firm, warm pressure of his mouth.
Chapter Three
Hale’s lips did not meet hers.
He kissed, instead, a corner of her mouth. Tantalizingly close, but safe and chaste.
And it was quick.
For Diane, it was that…and, oddly, seemed to take a very long time.
When Hale withdrew, standing back against the open door, Ron began to clap his big hands in loud and sustained approval. The sound seemed to echo somewhere in the back of her brain. Her heart was beating too fast, and even Diane recognized it was because of unexpected heightened emotions. Why was she just standing there, staring at…Santa?
Finally, the sounds of her surroundings, the noise and conversations and closing of doors and crying of babies rushed full force at her, until it all seemed too loud.
“…so I can make a formal intro between you two.”
“What?” Diane asked absently.
“I said—” Ron began, only to be interrupted.
“I’ve got to get out of this suit,” Hale announced firmly. He allowed Diane to pass and closed the office door on both of them.
Diane scowled at Ron. He was beaming at her.
“So now you’ve met Hale. That was quite an introduction.”
“Yes, it was,” Diane said with as much grace as she could muster. “But I have to go.”
“I know, I know,” Ron conceded with regret.
He spread his arms that seemed to have the wingspan of a bald eagle. Diane, smiling in amusement, accepted his warm hug and thanks.
“I’d be happy to come by when I’m free and do a brief checkup on anyone you think needs it, Ron.”
He placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder as Diane headed to the exit.
“Hell, they all need it, Diane. You know these folks don’t have any health care. Anything you can do is always appreciated.” He patted her shoulder and waved her off.
Outside, Diane inhaled deeply several times, grateful for the sudden rush of cold air on her face. She headed toward her car, feeling bewildered by the experience of seeing him at the shelter playing the part of one of humankind’s most beloved icons. Right up there with Mickey Mouse. And Jesus.
The contradiction only confused her more.
Diane put her things in the trunk of her car and sat for a while as the engine warmed her. She stared blindly out the window. It was almost nine in the evening, four days before Christmas. There weren’t that many people about, but then it was cold and she was not in a highly commercial part of town. It was a depressed area that could sorely use gentrification…if anyone, resident or government official, could agree on the need for it.
The shelter was little more than a storefront, with the upper floors roughly converted into dorm-like rooms and shared facilities. It felt enormously sad to Diane that families, children, had to call this place home, let alone spend the holidays here.
People like Ron Jeffrey should be canonized, she considered. But with that also came the image of Hale in the Santa suit. Was he to be blessed, as well?
She was pondering this when the object of her thoughts exited the shelter, dressed down in dark casual slacks, heavy hiking boots, a barn jacket and baseball cap. A dark green-and-red plaid scarf was his only concession to the holidays. Leather gloves stuck out of a pocket of his coat.
She had never seen Hale like this, with the young black professional look, decidedly upwardly mobile. Nice clothes of good quality and well coordinated. Stylish. And handsome.
No, that wasn’t true. Diane remembered her surprise at seeing how well Hale filled out a formal tux at the affair in Baltimore. She frowned as her gaze followed his brisk pace. His car keys ready, he pointed and clicked and the lights of a black SUV blinked on.
Hale was climbing into his car when Diane, spontaneous, bold, determined and without a clue of what she was actually going to do, turned off her engine, got out of her car and hurried across the parking lot toward his.
“Hale! Hale, wait a minute.”
He stopped in midaction, turning his head to watch as she approached. Diane slowed her steps. She suddenly realized that Hale’s expression, what she could see of it in the shadows and under the eerie florescent public lights, showed him tight-lipped. His eyes were hooded. He didn’t say a word but watched her warily.
“I want to say something,” Diane announced.
He put his hand up to stop her. She did.
“Look, I’m sorry. Ron put us on the spot. I shouldn’t have touched you. So, if you want…”
Diane shook her head. “No, that’s not what this is about. Ron meant well. It’s the holidays and all that. You know.”
“Yes. I know.”
He still sounded suspicious.
“I…” She made a vague gesture with her hand. “I just want to say…you were so great with the kids.”
Hale stared silently at her.
“I mean, it was great. And…and dressing up like Santa. You’re kind of thin for the part…”
“Is that a compliment?” he asked dryly.
She chuckled nervously, rubbing her hands together, trying to figure out how to end the conversation that she’d begun.
“I guess it didn’t sound like one,” Diane agreed.
Hale wasn’t doing or saying anything to make this easy for her. He wasn’t being conciliatory or even friendly. Diane sighed. She couldn’t blame him. Two weeks ago when the tables were turned she’d given him no quarter either. In fact, she knew her response to seeing him after so many years had been way over the top.
“If you’re finished, I have to go,” he said, once again turning to his car.
“How’s Jenna?”
He turned sharply and pinned her with a cold stare. “Why do you want to know?”
Diane was shocked by his tone, as if she’d asked something highly personal. She shrugged, becoming annoyed that he continued to treat her like a pariah.
