Mistletoe, Midwife...Miracle Baby. Anne Fraser
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rather than icy. A couple of hours earlier, Marie’s sister had arrived along with a load of shopping. Ellen was relieved that the sisters’ mother seemed to recognise her. It had been a difficult night spent between the baby and the old lady, and Ellen longed for a bath and a few hours in bed. Sean told them that he had arranged for one of the midwives to come and see mother and baby the next day.
Sean admired the baby again and had a word with Marie before they left. Inside the car he looked intently at Ellen.
‘You look different somehow. Tired … but different.’
‘Thanks a lot, Sean. No woman likes to be told she looks tired, even if it is true. It usually means she looks terrible.’
The look Sean gave her was unfathomable. ‘I don’t think you could look anything but beautiful.’
A shiver ran down her spine. Was Sean beginning to see her as a grown woman at last? Why now? When it was too late?
‘Why, thank you, kind sir,’ she said lightly. ‘But, I have to admit, I’m looking forward to a shower and change of clothes.’
‘Why did you give up working as a midwife?’ Sean asked suddenly. ‘Anyone can see that you love what you do. It’s such a waste.’
Ellen thought rapidly. What could she tell him that would make him stop pressing her for answers she didn’t have or want to give?
‘I haven’t given up being a midwife. I’ll be going back in a while. I just wanted a break. I planned to take some time out to …’ She stopped. She didn’t want to explain about the aborted trip to India. That would lead to more questions she didn’t want to answer. Everything seemed to lead back to her illness. ‘.to think about some stuff.’ She changed the subject ‘What about you? What are your plans? I thought someone with your reputation would be working in a large teaching hospital.’
‘I like it here. I love being close to the mountains and I like being part of the Mountain Rescue Team. Living here suits me. The hospital has a first-class reputation, which is continuing to grow. They wanted someone with expertise in high-risk pregnancies to develop the service, so they asked me.’
It was as if someone had thrown ice cubes down the back of Ellen’s blouse. It was ironic. For a second, but only for a second, she was tempted to ask him whether he’d ever had a patient with pulmonary hypertension. Instead, she changed the conversation.
‘What about girlfriends?’ Although Gran had said there wasn’t one, Ellen found herself wanting to be sure. There could be someone Gran didn’t know about.
Sean shot her a look. ‘No one permanent. I’m happy with my life exactly how it is.’
Ellen felt a surge of relief. Which was dumb. It wasn’t as if she had any aspirations as far as Sean Jamieson was concerned. It was just that she couldn’t stop remembering how she’d once felt about him. She needed to remember that he wasn’t the same person she had known as a child—and neither was she. Nevertheless, it felt good to have him back in her life. If being with him unsettled her, at least it was a diversion from her own morbid thoughts.
Ellen closed her eyes as a wave of tiredness washed over her. Spending the night in a chair in between checking up on baby Sean and Marie’s mother hadn’t been conducive to a good night’s sleep. ‘Wake me up when we get home,’ she said, and closed her eyes.
Sean slid a glance in Ellen’s direction. Home. It was funny, the way she’d said that. Almost as if they were a married couple returning to their home after a night out. And even odder that it felt right somehow.
He was going crazy. He had to be. Ellen hadn’t been back in his life for much longer than a few days and already he felt as if she’d never left.
The image of her lifting her face to his to be kissed came rushing back as if it had only been eight weeks ago instead of eight years. If only she’d known how tempted he’d been back then to carry on kissing her, to take her to bed, to take up the promise in her eyes. But, thank God, at the last minute reason had come rushing back. He was older than her and so much more experienced. Not only that. He’d known that she’d thought herself in love with him and there had been no way he could take advantage of her feelings. He had been fond of her, in the way he was fond of his youngest sister, too fond to risk breaking her heart.
He smiled. His first memory of Ellen was when he had been ten and she had been five. A little girl with a round stomach and bright red curls, she had formed an instant devotion to him, following behind him and his friends whenever she could.
And so it had continued. Every year she’d arrive to stay with Maggie for the summer, and every summer she would insist on pursuing him and his pals whenever she could keep up. It had irritated the hell out of them all but he’d felt responsible for her. More often than not he would glance back, when his friends weren’t looking, just to check that she hadn’t hurt herself or got lost. There had been that incident by the river when she had been eight and he thirteen. If he hadn’t been keeping an eye on her she could have drowned, so great had been her determination to do exactly as he’d done, even if she had been about a foot smaller and the river had covered her head when it had only come up to his armpits. He grinned as he recalled a face red with fury and mortification, small fists banging on his chest as she’d demanded to be let go. She had been a little tiger.
And so the summers had gone on. She’d hung about his house with his sisters and parents, happy to sit by the fire and listen while he and his noisy family had laughed and argued. Even then he had sensed a deep loneliness in her. He couldn’t understand why she hadn’t spent the summers with her mother. As she’d got older, she’d stopped following him and started spending more time with his sisters, pretending—and he didn’t know how he knew this—to share their interest in make-up and clothes. Maybe it was because she’d always worn the same rolled-up jeans and thick cotton checked shirt. Come to think of it, that was the kind of clothes he’d always worn too.
There had been a gap of a couple of years when he hadn’t seen her—he’d been at medical school and had spent his holidays travelling in Europe—but when she’d been sixteen he’d been back, and he’d barely recognised the coltish beauty who had turned up at his house.
He sneaked another glance at her. She was still beautiful, but most of the light had gone out of her. What had changed her from the daredevil, energetic girl she had been to this cool, almost reticent woman? Why had she stopped working? Especially when it had been clear from the look on her face when she had helped during Marie’s labour that being a midwife was what she was born to do. And then there had been that odd look on her face when she’d held the baby in her arms. For a moment she had seemed to hesitate before she had taken the newborn. That wasn’t in keeping with someone who was used to delivering babies. This Ellen was a mystery. Was she running away from something, and, if so, what? He shook his head. Underneath the closed-off facade he was sure the Ellen he had once known still lurked, and somewhere inside him there was that same protective feeling. If Ellen was in trouble, he wanted to know.
Later that day, once Ellen had had some sleep, Sean came by the house again.
‘We never did make it to the shops. I’m going now. Would you like to join me?’
She hesitated. There was no need for them to go together now that the snow had melted.
‘I’d also like to show you the hospital. There’s a patient I promised to see. Come on, what do you say?’
She said no. But only on the inside. Somehow her mouth was saying yes.
The shopping was easily managed. Ellen couldn’t prevent herself from glancing in Sean’s basket and she wasn’t altogether surprised to find a fair number of frozen microwave meals along with a reasonable helping of fruit and vegetables.
To her embarrassment Sean caught her in the act and pretended to be shocked.
‘Ellen! Has no one ever told you that it’s rude to stare?’
Once again, she felt fourteen years old and her cheeks reddened. Would