A Doctor's Christmas Family Read online

  Which is how he should be, and would have been, if he wasn’t so confused over his reaction to a brief news flash. Hard to believe, after three years, he could still suffer such jealousy where Esther was concerned.

  ‘I’ve got those details at the hospital,’ Bill told her, reluctantly admitting to himself that any hope of talking about anything but work was gone.

  He started the car, admitting also, as he backed out of the parking space, that Esther was handling this unforeseen reunion far better than he was. She’d obviously moved on with her life to the extent that she could treat him as nothing more than another colleague, because there was no way she could be suffering the same torments of attraction he was, and still be able to carry on a logical conversation about dengue fever carriers.

  Esther breathed an inward sigh of relief. She wasn’t game to do it outwardly, with Bill in the weird mood he was in. He’d probably accuse her of sighing over Byron when, in fact, the relief was that she’d survived a sojourn in the car with Bill without throwing herself into his arms and demanding to be kissed in the way moonlight on water suggested lovers should kiss.

  You’re not lovers, she reminded herself, and sadness at the realisation filled her with a heavy fog of regret.

  ‘We’re so different,’ she thought, and was jolted against her seat belt as Bill braked suddenly.

  ‘What? Was it an animal?’ she asked, looking around the dark street along which they were travelling.

  ‘No, no,’ he said, slowing down and tilting his head so he could see her and still watch the road. ‘I was startled, that’s all, by what you said.’

  She’d said? Was she so far gone she was speaking her thoughts aloud without realising it?

  But Bill didn’t know that. He was still explaining.

  ‘It’s something I was thinking earlier. That we could be so different, yet got on so well.’

  The nostalgia in his voice made her reach out, resting her hand on his arm.

  ‘We did get on well, didn’t we?’ she said quietly. ‘You asked about our fighting yesterday but, in my memory, we didn’t fight, though I suppose we must have, if only about your overriding determination to protect me from everything from a slight breeze to my own idiocy.’

  He stopped the car and shifted in his seat, resting his hand along the side of her face.

  ‘It was all I ever wanted to do, Esther. You’d been hurt so much, I couldn’t bear to think you should ever suffer again.’

  He leant forward and kissed her, very gently, on the lips, and all the remembered passion she’d been keeping tamped down for safety’s sake escaped, exploding inside her so she was kissing Bill back, not with moonlight over the water beyond the windscreen but in a darkened street made ghostly by the wrecks of what had once been houses, and dirty tinsel streamers fluttering from the wreckage.

  His lips parted hers, his tongue explored the hot cave of her mouth, heating her desire to melting point. She heard a faint moan and wondered if it was hers, but the soft curse was definitely Bill’s as he strove to untangle himself from his seat belt and then the gear stick between them.

  ‘This is impossible! Can you climb over the back?’ he demanded, his hot breath against her neck causing contrarily cold shivers down her spine.

  She didn’t answer, clambering over in the time it took him to get out the front door and slide back into the rear seat, then he was kissing her again, though this time it was easier. She could reach her arms around his back, hold him closer, feel his hard body up against hers.

  ‘Esther!’ he murmured, the word a different kind of caress. His hand slid between them, undoing buttons on her shirt, such a good idea she did the same to his so she could slide her hand beneath the fabric and put her palm flat against his smooth, warm skin, getting to know him again by touch.

  ‘Esther,’ he said again, more roughly this time, the word a cross between a confirmation and a plea. And wordlessly she answered, shifting so she could remove her own jeans, knowing he was stripping off clothes as feverishly as she was. It crossed her mind they’d done this once before, early in their relationship, so hot for each other they’d been unable to drive all the way back home before reaffirming their love with love-making.

  Maybe it was some imprinted memory of that other occasion that made it easier, so her body found the right place on the wide back seat of the SUV, while he seemed able to be everywhere, touching her, holding her, teasing her into crying out for him, then finally they were together again in the way Esther had always believed they were meant to be.

  It was probably, in retrospect, as awkward and uncomfortable this time as it had been then, but what burned between them was a fire that couldn’t be put out any other way—though doused might be a better word, because even when they lay exhausted in each other’s arms, deep down the embers still glowed, needing only the slightest touch to bring them flaming back to life.

  ‘I had forgotten what you could do to me,’ Bill said quietly, shifting slightly so Esther’s head could rest more comfortably on his chest. His arm held her clamped against him, and she could feel his heart beating against his rib cage, the rapid thud of it as reassuring as his arm.

  ‘What we do to each other,’ she said quietly, relishing this moment that nothing could ever take away from her, though common sense was already knocking on the doorway of her brain, suggesting she let it in to reassert a little authority.

  She ignored it, pressing tighter to the warmth of Bill’s body, the familiar smell of him—pine and earth, she’d always thought—engaging her senses to the exclusion of all else.

  He must have been as reluctant as she was for them to peel apart and they half sat, half lay in silence, until Bill asked if she remembered the other time, and they were able to laugh about it and share other happy memories, sitting in the car in a dark, deserted street, recapturing the special magic of their time together.

  ‘We should go,’ Esther finally said, ‘if for no other reason that I’ll starve to death if I don’t eat soon.’

  Bill hugged her closer.

  ‘You always did need to be fed at regular intervals,’ he teased, but she could feel his reluctance to move and guessed he knew, as she did now common sense had reasserted itself, that what had just happened hadn’t changed anything.

  He’d married Marcie and they’d had a child together. His ambivalence over his current marital status was probably to do with that child.

  With Chloe…

  Pain shafted through Esther, deep and hot and hurtful.

  ‘It was wonderful, but that’s it,’ she said, hoping to make things easier for him by letting him know she understood his dilemma.

  Hoping, also, to get out of the situation without causing further pain to herself…

  ‘What do you mean, that’s it?’ he demanded.

  ‘We can’t be doing this again,’ she said. ‘OK, we’re still attracted to each other—that’s just a hangover thing from the past. But we’ve both moved on, Bill. You’ve got a family, I’ve made a new life for myself, and we’re not going to jeopardise both our futures for a couple of quick naughties in the back seat of your car.’

  Bill shifted away from her so abruptly she fell back against the seat. He was feeling furiously around for his clothes, scrambling into them at warp speed, but he still had enough breath to let her know a thing or two.

  ‘Is that all it meant to you?’ he fumed. ‘A quick naughty in the back seat? “I’ve made a new life for myself”,’ he mimicked cruelly. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? That you’ve just cheated on someone?’

  Bill was out of the car before she could answer, slamming back into the driver’s seat and starting the engine.

  ‘Put your seat belt on,’ he snapped, then for good measure added, ‘And some clothes.’

  He couldn’t believe it. Esther, when they’d kissed, had seemed as excited and eager as he had been, then, bang, she’d thrust him away, announcing that was it—making it seem like something trivial and slightly sor
did.

  Which it probably was on her part if she wasn’t experiencing the reawakening love that had been jolting through his mind and body since she’d walked back into his life.

  He’d even been feeling cautiously hopeful that something might come of this reunion. A reunion he hadn’t actually planned but had harboured as a secret dream that might just happen. No one, not his boss at CDC, or his mother, or his closest friend, knew that his main reason for wanting to do the exchange in Jamestown was because it would put him on the same continent as Esther. And once on the same continent, who knew what might happen?

  That had been his thinking—before he’d arrived and discreet enquiries had told him he was on the wrong continent. Esther was in Africa.

  Then fate, usually working determinedly against him, had flipped him a bone—sending Esther to him when he least expected to see her. Of course, it had to be at a time when he was so stressed and exhausted that everything he did seemed to irritate her.

  If she had someone else—would that explain things?

  Explain how she could share the magic that still existed in their love-making, then reject him?

  Perhaps it was for the best. He might have dreamed of meeting Esther once again—even dreamed of the two of them getting back together—but surely this experience was enough to tell him she hadn’t changed. She could still switch off, and thrust him into a limbo of not knowing where he stood. She could shut herself away and leave him out in the cold.

  Didn’t what had just happened prove she hadn’t changed?

  Never would change?

  As usual, with Esther, he didn’t have a clue—and that hurt more than anything…

  Esther leaned back against the seat. She had her legs in her jeans and lifted her hips to pull them up to her waist so she could zip them up. Her fingers shook and she knew it was reaction to Bill’s reaction—to this sudden fury he was hurling her way.

  But what right had he to be so angry?

  He was the one who’d married someone else! And he could hardly have done that if he’d still loved his first wife, now, could he? So how could what had happened be anything more than giving in to an attraction that was still imprinted on their bodies?

  Could he not see that?

  Apparently not, but, she consoled herself, she wouldn’t be here for long, and if he stayed furious with her there’d be no chance they’d repeat what had just happened.

  But that thought wasn’t as consoling as it should have been. In fact, it made her feel like crying—bawling out loud like a baby, with great racking sobs of grief.

  She didn’t cry, buttoning up her shirt instead, so when he pulled into the underground car park she was able to slide her feet into her sandals and get out of the car, slightly crumpled, no doubt, but decently dressed.

  The look Bill shot her suggested he was thinking exactly what she was, so she said it because, whatever else was going on with Bill, she was reasonably sure he’d retain his sense of humour, and this might be a way to lighten the tension between them.

  ‘Your mother will take one look at us and know exactly what we’ve been doing,’ she said, but his only response was a black scowl.

  Maybe she was wrong about his sense of humour.

  Maybe she was wrong about a lot of things.

  But just how wrong she had no idea. They travelled silently up in the lift, stepped out into the foyer, then, as Bill was about to unlock the door, it opened from within.

  Gwyneth was obviously in no state to notice anything about anyone’s appearance. She gave a cry of despair, and threw herself into Bill’s arms.

  ‘I’ve been trying to contact you. Chloe’s sick!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘SHE could just be feverish. It’s not necessarily dengue,’ Esther said, trying to reassure Bill as she followed him into Chloe’s room.

  ‘So now you’re an expert on childhood illnesses?’ Bill snorted, stopping by the crib and reaching out to touch his daughter’s flushed cheek.

  Esther knew he was lashing out through fear for his daughter, and probably through guilt that he hadn’t been home to see her earlier. Definitely guilt as well, if he was feeling anything like the cramping culpability she was feeling.

  ‘Have you given her anything?’ Esther asked, touching Gwyneth lightly on the arm.

  Gwyneth turned and stared at Esther, as if trying to remember who she was.

  ‘I gave her some of the baby syrup Bill brought home when she was teething,’ Gwyneth said. ‘She’d been fretful all afternoon, didn’t have a proper sleep then wouldn’t eat her dinner. I phoned the hospital but they said Bill wasn’t there.’

  Esther saw the look in Gwyneth’s eyes change from worry to suspicion.

  ‘He was chasing after you, wasn’t he?’ she accused. ‘Probably saw all that nonsense about a crocodile on the television and went running after you. The man never did have a lick of sense where you’re concerned.’

  Hurt, regret, guilt—what else could she feel? Esther wondered.

  She turned away from the now furious woman, stopping when she reached the door to say, ‘I’m going back to the hospital. I’ll take any emergencies that come up. Bill, you stay here with Chloe.’

  She didn’t think he’d heard her, but as she left the room she heard him call her name. Let him call—let them both do what they like. I don’t need them—any of them—though I do hope that baby is OK. Don’t let it be dengue. Don’t let her be really sick.

  Useless pleas or prayers or whatever they were! When had her desperate, silent requests to the fates ever worked?

  Never, that was when.

  But hope was a bird that refused to lie down and die. It fluttered in her chest with a maybe this time. Maybe just this once…

  Back in the room she’d barely used, she found a plastic bag in which she’d packed her sandals for the trip north, and shoved some clean underwear, a change of shirt and her toilet bag into it. Her notes were still on the front seat of Bill’s car, but she was reasonably sure he hadn’t locked it. She’d pick them up on her way. She’d have to find a way to contact Byron, too, to let him know to collect her from the hospital in the morning.

  Or maybe not at all, if Chloe was still sick and Bill needed to take the day off to be with her.

  Bill! His name was like a wail of anguish in her head as she let herself quietly out of the apartment.

  In spite of what she’d said in the car, she knew what she felt for him went far deeper than attraction. Love-making between them had always been good, but there’d been—or she thought there’d been—something much stronger binding them together.

  Fat lot of good it did, she derided the melancholy thoughts. And fat lot of good you’ll do anyone if you don’t get Bill Jackson right out of your mind. Take over from Bill with the patients, find the source of the infection, put measures to stop the spread into action, then get out of town.

  You can be home for Christmas.

  The thought made her even more dejected. ‘Home’ was a small house in Brisbane, rented furnished because she’d never owned any furniture and had no family to give her cast-offs. It was a base, nothing more, a place to keep her clothes and books and provide a roof over her head between assignments like this one and her trip to Africa.

  Because she had no family, she was free, and happy, to be sent to wherever an epidemiologist might be needed, but her itinerant lifestyle meant the phrase ‘home for Christmas’ had very little meaning and brought her no pleasure at all.

  Especially as she no longer had any wish to celebrate it with tinsel, trees or pretty gold and white decorations…

  She strode down the dark street towards the brightly lit building ahead of her, determined to stick to the path she’d just set for herself, whether Christmas loomed or not, and just as determined to put the past back where it belonged—in the past.

  Up on the fourth floor she found the same two sisters—the two Js as she called them in her head—on duty. Esther explained about Chloe being si
ck, adding, ‘So rather than have the phone ringing at Bill’s apartment, maybe when he’s snatching a bit of sleep, I thought I’d sleep here in the on-duty room.’

  The two women nodded in unison as if they thought this was a good idea, and their concern, when they started asking questions about Chloe, was both obvious and genuine.

  ‘It’s probably just a cold,’ Esther assured them. ‘If you think about where they live, it’s unlikely it would be dengue.’

  ‘Except,’ Janet reminded her, ‘Bill’s been worried all along there might be other ways of transmission apart from arboviral.’

  ‘Well, we’ll just have to hope he’s wrong,’ Esther said, fighting off her own doubts at the same time as she argued with Janet. ‘Because it’d kill him to think she’s caught the disease from his involvement. Though that’s ninety-nine point nine per cent unlikely. He’s even been showering before he goes home, to make sure he’s not carrying any bugs.’

  Janet gave her a strange look but neither woman made a comment, and it wasn’t until later Esther realised she must have sounded very definite about what Bill was doing and feeling—too definite for someone who barely knew him.

  On the whole, it was a quiet night, one of the original ICU patients rallying to the extent Esther removed the monitor leads, which enabled the man to sleep more comfortably. She’d had a couple of hours’ sleep when Janet woke her. Mr Risk was causing concern again. His temperature had risen alarmingly and his heartbeat had slowed. Acetaminophen and sponging brought his temperature down, and when it stabilised his heart rate picked up, reassuring Esther it was nothing more than a blip in the graph of his continued improvement.

  She then slept for three straight hours, which was just as well for at four in the morning Bill arrived, his little daughter listless in his arms.

  ‘Is there a paediatrician still in town?’ Esther asked him, knowing Chloe should have specialist care.

  ‘No. We shifted paediatric patients to Cairns and he went there as well. His house had been wrecked and he has relatives in Cairns who are housing him and his family.’