Midwife Under The Mistletoe

‘Nor me.’ Fraser ripped out a handful of printed pages, stapled half together and passed them to Iona, keeping the remainder for himself.

‘I’m going to speak to the metabolic unit before I see Mrs Gillen. She’ll need a referral straight away.’ Since Marie and her newborn were Iona’s patients, she would be the one to oversee the initial handover to the hospital.

‘This is some basic info on PKU you can give to her. I’m sure you have it all in hand but it will do us all good to reacquaint ourselves with the challenges ahead.’ The way Fraser said it made it sound as though he expected her to make a home visit straight away when she’d intended to wait until she’d spoken to a consultant.

‘You know I’m on a half-day? I’m only here until lunchtime because I’m moving house today.’ Iona didn’t know if he was aware of her time off so she gave him the benefit of the doubt that he wasn’t deliberately trying to antagonise her again.

‘You can see her first and put the rest of your appointments back. The family need to know and this kind of bombshell is best delivered in person.’ When Iona didn’t respond immediately, stunned that he was pulling rank on her, Fraser added, ‘You know this is a time-sensitive condition and we need to begin treatment as soon as possible.’

She knew he was right and if she hadn’t been so caught up in her moving plans she would have suggested the same. As the only midwife at the practice, she didn’t have anyone else to delegate to so the responsibility was solely hers to deliver the news to the family. That didn’t mean she couldn’t be irritated at losing her time off.

The slightest brush of his fingers against hers as he handed her the information started that prickling sensation beneath her skin she’d experienced for the first time last night when he’d held her in his arms just a fraction longer than necessary.

That spark of awareness in Fraser’s eyes said he’d felt it too but it only served to annoy Iona more. The GP who’d stolen Christmas was now dousing cold water on the plans for her afternoon off so she shouldn’t find anything remotely attractive about him.

‘I’m sorry for yesterday but, you know, we have to have a code of conduct in the workplace or all hell would break loose.’

She stared at him, unblinking, wondering if he was trying to justify nixing her time off by blaming her for making a move on him. Her cheeks burned all the more when she realised he was talking about her dalliance into interior decorating and she was the only one whose thoughts had strayed elsewhere.

‘It’s all sorted now. Don’t worry about it.’ Although Fraser deserved more flak over his over-the-top reaction to a few baubles, it would keep until she’d got over this bout of madness.

‘If you need an appointment for me to see Mrs Gillen, let me know and I’ll fit her into my schedule.’

There were a lot of things about Fraser that frustrated Iona no end but she couldn’t fault his devotion to his patients. Their mutual patients were a shared interest. Somehow that didn’t give her any more comfort. Iona greedily snatched at more reasons to dislike him to erase the memory of the tenderness she’d felt in his touch and the desire she’d seen in his eyes when he’d held her close.

In that brief moment she’d understood those defences she’d built up against this man were because she was afraid of liking him too much. She had enough physical and mental scars to be wary of any man, especially the bossy kind, but she worried even that mightn’t be enough to save her.

‘I’ll let you know. I guess moving day will just have to wait.’

Fraser nodded and with her last obligation here taken care of, Iona was able to make her escape from the claustrophobia of these four walls.

* * *

There was nothing akin to driving out on the open road, radio blasting and singing along at the top of your voice where no one could hear. Iona loved her job. Sure, it was challenging, the hours long with no discernible time for breaks, but it was rewarding. Not only did she get to accompany these women throughout their pregnancies and sometimes get to welcome their babies into the world herself, she was able to enjoy her independence on a daily basis.

She was free to drive out here in the beautiful Scottish countryside, often travelling for miles between each of her appointments. It gave her that sense of empowerment over her destiny, even though she was still technically an employee.

Her freedom was everything to her after her marriage, during which Andy had practically held her prisoner. She’d been blinded by love in those early days, unable to see how he was slowly isolating her from friends and family, insisting he was the only one she needed in her life. Cut off from anyone who could’ve helped her, she’d been at the mercy of his temper when it had shown itself. He’d used any excuse to lash out at her—if the dinner had been overcooked or she’d been wearing too much make-up—but towards the end he hadn’t even bothered making excuses to beat her it had become so commonplace.

Iona flinched, almost able to feel those blows raining down on her after all this time. It was then she had understood why her mother had endured her own loveless relationship for so long. She’d been worn down, cut off from the outside world with no means to support herself financially when she’d sacrificed everything for her family. It had been Andy’s talk of babies and her mother’s death that had finally galvanised Iona into action. She could never have brought a child into that toxic atmosphere when she’d grown up in similar herself and had followed the pattern into adulthood.

It had taken death to enable her mother to leave her own marriage and Iona hadn’t been prepared to wait for the same fate. The strength she’d found to walk out on Andy and file for divorce had carried her on to university and to carve out a whole new life for herself.

Placements during her training had seen Iona working in hospitals and birth clinics but that environment had been a conveyor belt of women passing through her hands with no room to get to know them on a personal level. Life as a community midwife gave her much more of an intimate connection, visiting the patients at home and being on hand as they settled into family life.

* * *

She took a bite of the pre-packed sandwich she’d bought at the garage on the way back from Mrs Gillen’s. Car picnics were Iona’s speciality, if not the hearty dinner she’d been hoping to have in her own place tonight. Now all she wanted was to get back and collapse into bed.

It had been a tough day all round with having to deliver baby Gillen’s diagnosis. The family had been rocked by the news and it would take some time to come to terms with what it meant for them but they had family close to provide a good support system.

With some liaising with the hospital team she’d managed to arrange a meeting for them tomorrow morning so hopefully that would ease their minds that their son would still live a full and active life with proper guidance.

She’d talked them through the basics of PKU, as outlined in Fraser’s printouts, leaving the experts to discuss the day-to-day realities. There had been no need to panic them by overloading them with information when they couldn’t do anything until they’d seen the metabolic consultant and dietician who’d be overseeing the treatment.

The circumstances, however, dictated Iona had stayed with the family much longer than she’d anticipated and she’d been forced to push the rest of her appointments back. It wasn’t something she was happy doing to people waiting in for her but given the cold weather her patients had assured her they’d no intention of venturing outside today. She didn’t blame them. Given half a chance, she’d have stayed indoors with a mug of hot chocolate and a cheesy Christmas film on the TV.

Of course, the extra time had meant not only had she missed out on her afternoon off but the surgery would likely be closed by now and she’d wanted to stop by to grab a few things for tomorrow.

After eight months in the village Iona knew the area pretty well but in the dark, with the first flurry of snow visible in the car headlights, these remote roads were daunting, to say the least. When she saw the lights on at the clinic ahead she breathed a sigh of relief that she’d made it back in one piece and she could stock up on supplies for tomorrow’s excursions.

It would be an early start tomorrow again in order to keep up to date with all of her patients and paperwork. Being a midwife required stamina and not for the first time she was glad she didn’t have to go home and go straight into wife and mother mode to keep others happy. As soon as she was done here she could go home and slip into the guise of knackered singleton guilt-free.

‘Hello. It’s Iona. Can you let me in?’ She rapped on the clinic window, hoping whoever was here, cleaning or catching up on last-minute paperwork, would open up.

‘I hope you’re not expecting overtime.’ Fraser’s dour tone almost tipped her over the edge into a rant about putting her patients above financial gain and her own plans, until she saw the tease playing on his lips. In her exhausted state Iona wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with the sight.

‘I just want to restock with supplies for tomorrow morning.’ Iona didn’t rise to the bait, not willing to prolong her working day any longer than necessary. With his large frame filling the doorway, she chose to duck under his arm as he held the door open, rather than take the chance of touching him again by pushing past.

‘How is Mrs Gillen?’ Unable to take the hint that she didn’t want him near her, Fraser followed her into the stockroom. Iona should’ve known he’d want a full account to analyse if she’d handled the situation correctly, no doubt concerned he’d be the one to pick up the pieces if Marie fell apart.

‘Shocked, obviously, but reasonably calm. I passed on the printouts you provided.’ He could give himself a pat on the back that he’d participated in some way if that’s what he was interested in.

‘Good. Good. Would you like me to make an emergency appointment to discuss any concerns with her?’ With his arms folded and resting casually against the shelves, Fraser left scant breathing space in the small room. There really was no reason for them both to be crammed in here so Iona forced her way past into the corridor so she wasn’t suffocated by his spicy aftershave.

‘No, I’ve made arrangements for her at the metabolic unit. The consultant and dietician will take over from here.’

She doubted he’d be one hundred percent happy about being out of the loop but there were areas even out of his expertise.

‘They know best,’ he conceded politely.

‘How come you’re here so late?’ Usually you could set your watch by Fraser, who tried to keep office hours when he wasn’t on call. He’d never have made it as a midwife.

The idea of him in blue scrubs, tootling around the countryside in her small car, made her grin and she had to turn away so he wouldn’t see her amusement.

‘I thought I’d swot up on PKU while I was waiting for you.’

The admission made her do an about-turn. ‘Me? What on earth for?’

Their contretemps over the decorations immediately sprang to mind, along with that back-of-the-neck tingling sensation. Her pulse apparently thought she was in a sprint and other parts of her were reminding her it had been a long time since she’d been with a man and she should simply acknowledge this growing attraction for her colleague. If the opportunity arose to get close again, she couldn’t be certain common sense would get any say in the matter when her hormones were currently doing all the talking.

‘I thought you might need help moving in.’ The expression on Fraser’s face displayed concern rather than an intention to seduce her. He was the innocent party in the lurid fantasies her overtired mind insisted on conjuring up.

‘I’ll just have to reschedule for the next time I’m free. Whenever that might be.’ Her need for sleep now was more vital than assuaging Fraser’s apparent guilt that she’d been held up and she wished she’d never broached the subject with him. It put her in a no-win situation. Saying no to him wasn’t going to help their already strained relationship but letting him trespass into her private life wasn’t going to be comfortable for either of them.

‘Call it my apology for yesterday. I could’ve handled things better.’ Hands in pockets, he gave a shrug and appeared even less of a tyrant than ever. None of that was helping Iona maintain that wall of steel she tried to surround herself with at the merest hint of a too-alpha male. Sincere apologies and taking responsibility for anything weren’t traits often associated with such domineering personalities. She should know.

On this occasion Iona had to consider the possibility she might have been mistaken in her assessment of Fraser McColl. Then she could stop being so hard on herself for being drawn to him. Unfortunately this humble side of him decreed a compromise on her part lest she become the sort of obstinate-to-a-fault twit she despised.