Twins for Christmas

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‘What have you been doing?’

‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ Rory said coldly, ‘but I’ve been building roads. New mining development in the south of Australia.’

No wonder he looked so tanned and lean. Toughened by a harsh climate and physically demanding work.

‘But … why?’ The word came out as a whisper. It just didn’t make sense.

Marcella stirred, probably disturbed by the now chaotic noise level in the department.

‘Jamie?’

The change in Rory was subtle, but Kate didn’t miss any of it. She’d had too much practice watching this man in the past. She saw what amounted to physical pain at hearing the wrong name. She could see the instant tension in his body, the shadow in his eyes, and it reminded her so strongly of the trouble he’d been in that night.

She was no closer to understanding what it was all about, but—stupidly—she still wanted to help. She almost reached out to touch him. To convey that desire. What stopped her was seeing the fierce determination in his face. Confidence. So something had changed in the months he’d been gone. Whatever it was, and however hard it might be, Rory could deal with this by himself this time. He didn’t need her comfort.

‘Leave it, Kate,’ he said wearily. ‘It really is none of your business.’

‘Oh?’ The tension had been contagious, and Kate didn’t have access to whatever inner strength Rory had just tapped into.

And, yes, the fantasy of seeing the dawning joy in his face on learning he was soon to be the father of twins was over-the-top, to say the least, but to reject her like this was unfair.

Unacceptable, really.

Maybe it wasn’t any of her business, but Kate could at least live up to her responsibilities. She could do what should have been done a long time ago.

‘It might be helpful if you could leave some kind of forwarding address the next time you decide to vanish,’ she said.

‘Why?’

Kate’s smile was wry. ‘So that I can let you know when your children are born.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘CHILDREN?’

The colour in Rory’s face was draining, but Kate’s gaze didn’t falter.

‘Twins,’ she confirmed.

‘Kate?’

Judy’s voice was coming from behind the curtain screening the cubicle, but something had clicked for Kate. Something important.

‘It’s in your family, isn’t it?’ She didn’t give Rory time to respond. ‘You have a twin. That’s why your mother keeps calling you Jamie.’

‘Kate?’ The curtain was twitching now, but Kate was still watching Rory. Seeing the pain that darkened his eyes to an impenetrable black.

‘Had.’ His voice was so low and raw the words were almost inaudible. ‘He died. A long time ago.’

‘Kate? We need help in Resus 1. I know you’re supposed to be on light duties, but are you up for it?’

‘Of course.’

Judy’s glance turned to Rory. ‘Dr Foster asked me to bring you, too, if possible, Dr McCulloch. It’s a Code Red.’

Meaning that this was a crisis. They had more serious cases than they could safely handle with the staff they had available.

Rory shook his head.

‘We can find someone to sit with your mother. Now that she’s started antibiotics there’s not much more we can do for the moment.’

‘No,’ Rory said aloud. ‘I can’t help you. I’m sorry.’

Judy stared with the same incredulity Kate had experienced only a minute ago. She flicked Kate a ‘what on earth is going on?’ kind of look, but couldn’t linger.

Neither could Kate. But neither could she let Rory get away with dismissing his moral responsibilities like this. He’d taken an oath when he became a doctor. One that Kate considered if not sacred at least equal to the kind of obligation and responsibilities that came with becoming a parent. If he could ignore that oath and the patients that needed him in a situation like this, what sort of father was he going to make to her children?

It simply wasn’t good enough.

‘There are children out there,’ she breathed. ‘Frightened, injured children who thought they were going back to the only home they know to put their Christmas presents under their tree. They need help. Your help.’

It was more than pain in his eyes now. More like agony.

‘You don’t know what you’re asking, Kate.’

‘Yes, I do.’ Kate was already moving. She took a quick glance over her shoulder. ‘And if you can’t do it, you’re not the man I thought you were. And you’re certainly not a father I thought my children could be proud of.’

The sharp stab of discomfort in her chest as Kate walked out of the cubicle felt remarkably like a piece breaking off from her heart.

Or the death of a dream she’d never quite been able to relinquish.

It took less than thirty seconds to get from the cubicle Mrs McCulloch was occupying to the resus bay where she was needed. Ahead of Kate was the job she was trained to do. A job she loved. The complicated and often challenging task of assessing and stabilising the condition of injured or sick people. Trying to reduce suffering. Saving lives.

The pull towards that duty and the desire to perform to the very best of her ability was a powerful force.

But Kate could feel a pull from behind her as well.

A link to the man she was walking away from in disgust.

A voice as compelling as the cry of the injured children was inside her own head. Telling her she was wrong.

Reminding her …

Strange how thirty seconds was long enough for a series of impressions to flash through her mind with such clarity. Or maybe not so strange. So much editing had been done to those memories they were now condensed into a single image that was far more than a picture. It could touch her senses and capture her emotions even when she was wide awake.

Every step Kate took seemed to trigger a new image. Another sense. Following one from another. But the first was an image printed on her heart that never failed to stir something painfully poignant.

The way he had been sitting that night. Alone. On that bench in the little park that was halfway between St Bethel’s and her small apartment.

The sight of a lone man late at night should have frightened Kate. It had—but she hadn’t been afraid for her own safety. She had been alarmed because she’d recognised Rory, and for him to be sitting there like that, so alone, was so completely out of character she’d known something was wrong. Terribly wrong.