ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.
Look out for Alisonâs latest great novel, Her Baby Out of the Blue, also availablein November 2009.
Dear Reader,
Christmas ⦠Merry Christmas. Happy Christmas. Christmas Blessings. The word invokes emotion, doesnât it? A sense of caring. Being able to show that you care for the people you love and for others that might be in trouble.
An emergency department is not where anyone wants to be on Christmas Eve. This particular emergency department on the outskirts of London is certainly not where my hero, Rory, wants to be because ⦠well ⦠Kateâs there, isnât she? And sheâs pregnant and clearly he isnât the father.
Itâs not where a busload of orphans want to be, either, but thereâs magic in the air.
Christmas magic. I hope some rubs off on you.
Happy reading!
Love
Alison
âGOOD grief! It canât beââ
Kate Simpson glanced up from the computer screen in time to see the back of a tall man who must have climbed out from the back of the ambulance in the bay to give the crew space to unload their patient.
âOf course it isnât,â she told Judy.
Her colleagueâs eyebrows rose at her tone. âLooked like him for a sec, though, didnât it?â
Kate shrugged, pretending interest in the screensaver that had just kicked in on the screen in front of her. Santaâs sleigh, being pulled by ridiculously happy-looking reindeer, emerged from one side of the screen and then took a circuitous route to the other side amidst snowflakes and the soft jingle of bells. A clock in the bottom right corner of the screen ticked off the countdown until Christmas Day. Five hours and fifty-nine minutes to go.
Of course it wasnât him.
How many times, she reminded herself, had she caught a glimpse of a masculine figure with some feature familiar enough to make her heart miss a beat? Broad shoulders, perhaps, or dark hair. Even a hand with elegantly long fingers or a way of moving with quiet confidence.
How many times had she taken a second glance and felt the weight of disappointment? An echo of the loss sheâd never really had the right to feel in the first place.
âYou OK, Kate?â
âIâm fine. Why?â
âI dunno. You look kind of ⦠sad.â
âBored, more like. Iâm not cut out to be a receptionist, and itâs so quââ
âDonât!â Judy held up her hand in a stop signal and the quick movement of her head made her festive bell earrings jingle. âDonât you dare say the Q word! Iâm off duty in an hour and Iâve still got Christmas shopping to finish.â
Kate smiled. âOK. So far Iâve logged in one broken ankle, a kid with tonsillitis and a septic finger. Itâs ⦠shall we say ⦠restful?â
âRestful is exactly what you need. You should be at home with your feet up.â
âIâd rather be doing the job Iâm trained for, thanks.â
âYou canât get close enough to a bed to take a pulse unless you turn sideways. Anyone would think you were carrying triplets instead of just twins.â Judy turned to look out through the double doors ringed with bright red and green tinsel that led to the ambulance bay. âTheyâre taking their time.â
âProbably finishing their patient report form or something. Canât be urgent.â Kate had been resisting taking that second glance. The one that was such an ingrained habit after so many months. Her soft sigh was an admission of defeat. It was too compelling to resist.
What was it about the man still standing out there as the paramedics finally lifted a stretcher from the back of the vehicle? The sense of him listening, for want of a better word, she decided. Standing so patiently when it had to be freezing, with the sleet that now appeared to be thickening into real snow falling heavily just beyond the overhang. He gave the impression of waiting but still being active. Absorbing everything happening around him. Ready to act on information instantly if necessary. A sense of control. That was what it was. He might be wearing civvies, but youâd pick him as the person in charge.
No. Kate gave herself a mental shake. It couldnât be him. She didnât want it to be. Not now. Not when she finally felt in control of her life enough to be looking forward to the future. She transferred her gaze to the patient propped up on the stretcher as the double doors slid open to admit the new arrivals to the emergency department of St Bethelâs Hospitalâa choice made easy by the fact that the paramedics were now blocking the figure of the man accompanying the frail-looking, elderly female patient.