The Child Who Rescued Christmas

The Child who Rescued Christmas

Jessica Matthews

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

Praise

About the Author

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

Praise for Jessica Matthews:

‘With a rich backstory and an emotional reunion, readers are treated to a beautiful love story. It is heartwarming to see two people deeply in love get a second chance.’

—RT Book Reviews on SIX-WEEK MARRIAGE MIRACLE

About the Author

JESSICA MATTHEWS’S interest in medicine began at a young age, and she nourished it with medical stories and hospital-based television programmes. After a stint as a teenage candy-striper, she pursued a career as a clinical laboratory scientist. When not writing or on duty, she fills her day with countless family and school-related activities. Jessica lives in the central United States, with her husband, daughter and son.

Dear Reader

Have you ever made a mistake that you bitterly regretted—to the point where you wish you could turn back time and make a better choice? My hero, Cole, had such a moment in his life, and it eventually came back to haunt him. Naturally I had to create a heroine strong enough to bear up under the pressure, and the following pages are the result. And what better time to set a story about love and forgiveness, goodwill and peace, than at Christmas?

So, as you take time to enjoy the season, I hope Sara and Cole’s journey will touch your heart.

Happy reading!

Jessica

Dedication

To my family, especially my husband, whose support never wavers.

PROLOGUE

THIS day just kept getting better, Sara Wittman thought wryly as one of the morning headlines caught her eye.

Three people killed in medical helicopter crash.

She hated reading news like that—it was a horrible way to start her day—but morbid curiosity and a healthy dread drove her to read the few facts listed in the article.

En route from the University of Oklahoma Medical Center in Oklahoma City to Enid, the A-Star 350 helicopter went down in an open field thirty miles outside its destination for unknown reasons. The three people on board, pilot James Anderson of Dallas, Texas, Nurse Ruth Warren of Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Nurse Lilian Gomez of Norman, Oklahoma, died at the scene.

According to statements released by AirMed, the company that operates this flying medical service, the circumstances of the crash are still uncertain. The incident is under investigation by the Federal Aviation Administration and the National Transportation Safety Board.

As a nurse assigned to the medical-surgical floor of Nolan Heights Hospital, she occasionally cared for a patient who had to be flown to a tertiary care center for treatment and consequently had met the dedicated staff who flew those missions. Although Nolan Heights used a different company for their flying ambulance service, the men and women who specialized in providing that type of medicine were a special breed who’d garnered her respect. These people would be missed, not only by their families but also by the medical community as a whole.

“You’re looking rather glum this morning.” Cole, her husband of nearly three years, breezed into the kitchen wearing dark slacks and a rust-colored shirt—his usual attire for another busy day in his medical practice. He bussed her on the cheek before heading for the coffeemaker where she’d already poured a cup of the French roast she’d made strong enough to keep him running all morning.

She savored his husbandly peck before rattling the newspaper. “I was just reading about a medical helicopter crash in Oklahoma. Two nurses and the pilot were killed on the way to collect a patient.”

“That’s too bad,” he remarked as he sipped from his mug and slipped a slice of bread into the toaster. “No one we know, I hope.”

“No,” she said, “although one of the nurses is from your old stomping grounds.”

“Tulsa?”

“For being gone most of the night because of a patient, you’re remarkably sharp this morning,” she teased.

“It’s all done with smoke and mirrors,” he answered with a grin that after one year of dating, two years of living together and three years of marriage still jump-started her pulse every time. “But in answer to your question, Tulsa is a relatively large city. I didn’t know every kid in my grade, much less my entire school.”

“I suppose it would be surprising if you knew Ruth Warren.”

He visibly froze. “Ruth Warren?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed. “It doesn’t give her age, though.” Then, because the news had obviously startled him, she asked, “Did you know a Ruth Warren?”

“The one I knew was a schoolteacher,” he said slowly, his gaze speculative. “High school biology. Now that I think about it, she’d always talked about going into nursing. Maybe she finally did.”

“Then it could have been your friend.”

“I doubt it. Even if she did make a career change, the Ruth I knew was scared of heights. She’d always joked about how she’d never get on an airplane.”

“There must be two Ruth Warrens,” she guessed. “Both names are common enough and her surname could be her married name.”

“It’s possible,” he murmured thoughtfully.

“Regardless, I’m sure her family, and everyone else’s, is devastated.”

“Hmm.”

“And when a tragedy like this happens close to Christmas, it has to be even more difficult to handle,” she commented, imagining how the season would never again be the same for those left behind. In the blink of an eye for these families, the holiday had lost its inherent excitement.

“Hmm.”

Sara recognized his preoccupied tone. Certain his mind was already racing ahead to concentrate on the day’s hectic schedule, she said offhandedly, “It’s nice that we’re closing the hospital at noon today.”

“Yeah.”

He was definitely not paying attention. “And Administration is doubling everyone’s salaries.”

“That’s nice.” Suddenly, his gaze landed on her.

“What?”

“You weren’t listening to me, were you?” she teased.

A sheepish expression appeared on his face. “Apparently not. Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” she said lightly. “As long as you won’t forget our annual anniversary getaway.”

“I haven’t,” he assured her. “We have reservations for the weekend at the hotel in Bisbee, just as we decided, and we fly to Arizona on Thursday morning. It amazes me that you wanted to stay at that elevation and see snow when we’ll be seeing plenty of it soon enough,” he added in a mock grumble. “A sunny beach would have made more sense.”

“We did the sunny beach last year,” she pointed out. “This is different. Besides …” she gave him a sultry smile “… if we run into any of the resident ghosts that our hotel claims to have, we can bar ourselves in our room.”

He grinned. “I vote we do that anyway.”

As if on cue, Sara’s watch beeped with her five-minute warning. Without looking at the time, she drained her mug and placed it in the sink. “Gotta run or I’ll be late,” she said as she stopped to give him a goodbye kiss.

He threaded an arm around her waist and pulled her close, his solid warmth comforting. “Do we have plans for this evening?”

She thought a minute. “No, why?”

The playful expression she recognized appeared on his face. “I predict I’m going to need a nap when I get home.”

Ordinarily, the prospect would have thrilled her, but not today.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and make a baby tonight,” he murmured with a feral smile and a seductive voice.

If only that were possible …

“We won’t,” she said flatly. “As of a few days ago, I’m not pregnant. It’s the wrong time.”

Her husband’s appreciative gaze turned sympathetic. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Maybe next month.”

Next month. It always came down to next month. For the last year and a half, those words had become her mantra.

“Yeah, maybe.” Avoiding his gaze, she tried to pull out of his embrace, but he’d obviously heard the disappointment in her voice because he didn’t let her go.

“Hey.” His hand against the side of her face was gently reassuring. “It’ll happen. Just be patient.”

After all this time, her account holding that particular virtue was overdrawn. “I’m tired of being patient, Cole. We should see a different specialist.” She finally voiced what she’d been contemplating off and on for the last month. “Dr. Eller could refer us to—”

“Sara,” he chided, “Josh Eller is the best ob-gyn man in this part of the country. You know that.”

“Yes, but another doctor might have a different opinion. He might take a more aggressive approach.”

“A different doctor might,” he agreed, “but Josh hasn’t steered us wrong so far. You’ve gotten pregnant once. It’s only been nine months.”

Sadly, she’d miscarried within days after she’d learned she’d been expecting. Had she not been concerned about what she’d thought was a lingering stomach flu virus, she’d never have gone to the doctor, and when she’d miscarried, she would have attributed it to just another horrible period.

“But nothing’s happened since,” she protested. We should—”

“Be patient. Your body needs time to heal.” “Yes, but—”

“Josh said we should allow ourselves a year and we’re close to that,” he reminded her. “Life hasn’t been so bad with just the two of us, has it?”

While their relationship hadn’t sailed along on completely smooth seas—there’d been a brief ten days when they’d gone their separate ways because she’d despaired of him ever proposing and giving her the family and home life she wanted—she couldn’t complain. “No, but a baby is like the icing on the cake when two people love each other. It—”

He stopped her in midsentence. “A baby will come if and when he’s supposed to. You have to trust that Josh knows what he’s doing. If he says not to worry, then don’t.”

She’d wanted Cole to be as eager to grow their family as she was, and his attitude grated on her. Didn’t he understand how much she wanted this? Didn’t he see that each passing month chipped away at her confidence and self-esteem?

And yet she understood Cole’s propensity to maintain the status quo when it came to his personal life. Although he never said, she guessed that losing his parents at such an early age and the subsequent turmoil in his life had made him reluctant to modify an established routine. She didn’t necessarily like his behavior, but it was a part of his character and she accepted it.

“Look,” she began, “I know how difficult it is for you to change course when you’re happy with the path you’re on. After all, between dating and living together, it took you almost three years before you finally proposed, but you should be as excited about a baby as I am.”

“I am.”

“You don’t act like it,” she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. “Would wringing my hands and calling Josh every week, pestering him for information and advice, change things?”

He had a point. “No,” she conceded. “But I want you to want this as much as I do and I’m not getting that impression from you.” While she knew Cole was more reserved than most, she wanted to see a more enthusiastic response. “Sometimes I think you only agreed to have a baby to humor me.”

“Oh, Sara.” He patted her back as he hugged her. “I’ll admit that I’m not eager for our lives to change because I’m happy with just the two of us. But I’d be happy if you got pregnant, too. A little girl with your pixie nose would be cute. So, you see, I’m basically a happy kind of guy.” He winked.

His teasing tone defused her aggravation. “Oh, you.” She poked him playfully. “Pixie nose, indeed.”

“Seriously, Sara …” his gaze grew intent “… stressing out about the situation won’t help matters. Josh won’t steer us wrong.”

Her husband’s confidence soothed her frazzled nerves. Slowly, she nodded. “You’re right, he won’t.”

“Good girl.” He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her. “There’s no doubt in my mind that it’ll happen, so stop worrying. Before long, you’ll be complaining about morning sickness, swollen ankles and not being able to see your own feet.”

She offered a wan smile. “I guess. Now, I’d better run or I really will be late.”

After she’d left, bundled against the cold, Cole noticed how quiet the house seemed without his bubbly wife’s presence. He’d hated seeing her so downcast for those few minutes and he wished Sara would focus on what she had rather than what she didn’t have. She’d always made it plain that she wanted a large family—two boys and two girls—like the one she’d had growing up, and while the thought of being responsible for four children—four—was enough to scare him spitless, he’d been willing to patiently and thoroughly do his part to fulfill her dream. He grinned as he remembered the last time they’d made love. They’d started in the kitchen then detoured to their oversize soaker tub before ending up in bed.

He enjoyed nights like those—craved them, in fact—and he wasn’t in any particular hurry to lose them. Truth was, he liked having his wife to himself. The idea that he someday would have even fewer private moments with her than he did now only made him cherish those times all the more.

While he looked upon their inability to conceive as one of the temporary mountains of life some people had to face—and was, in fact, a little relieved because he’d had so little experience with a loving family—she saw it as a personal failure. She shouldn’t, of course, because they were only in the early stages of the process. She’d gotten pregnant within six months of when they’d stopped using any birth control and although she’d lost the baby, only another nine months had passed. Consequently, they’d never thought they’d needed fertility testing, although if nothing happened soon, they would.

And yet he truly did believe what he’d told her. Mother Nature simply needed time to work and Josh would decide on the proper time for medical science to intervene.

Content to leave the situation in his colleague’s capable hands, he sat down to polish off his toast and coffee. As he munched, he idly glanced at the newspaper his wife had discarded and the trepidation he’d felt when Sara had first mentioned the helicopter crash came back, full force.

Ruth Warren.

Surely the woman wasn’t the same Ruth Warren from his youth—the same Ruth Warren he’d spent time with a few years ago at his fifteen-year class reunion. The same class reunion when he’d drowned his sorrows with far too many margaritas because Sara had left him.

In spite of his reluctance to take the step she’d wanted—marriage—he’d come to his senses quickly. Accepting that his life would stretch ahead interminably without her, he’d proposed a week later. Sara had never pressed for details about his change of heart and he’d never offered them, except to say that he’d been miserable without her. Six months later, after Sara had planned her dream wedding, they had been married. Now, in a few more weeks, they’d celebrate their three-year anniversary.

Three years of the happiness and contentment he hadn’t felt since he was eight.

Suddenly, he had to know if the Ruth Warren mentioned in the article was the girl who’d often sat beside him at school because their names fell so close alphabetically. Now that he thought about it, hadn’t she mentioned during their reunion weekend that she’d turned her teaching certificate into a nurse’s diploma? To be honest, there was a lot about those two days he didn’t remember …

Determined to find an answer, he abandoned his coffee on his way to his office and powered up his computer. Minutes later, he’d found the online obituary at the Tulsa World website and scanned the details. Most, he already knew.

Age 33, preceded in death by her parents, attended the University of Oklahoma, earned a degree in secondary education and later in nursing before taking a position as a flight nurse.

Reading the facts suddenly made them seem familiar, as if she’d told him of her career change and he’d simply forgotten. He read on …

Survivors include a son, as well as many friends and former students.

She’d had a son? She hadn’t mentioned a child, but she’d never been one to share the details of her personal life. He was certain he’d asked about her life—it had been a reunion, after all—but he’d been too focused on his own misery to remember the things she’d told him. Idly, he wondered if the boy’s father was still in the picture. Probably not, if the man hadn’t received mention.

A graveside service will be held at 10:00 a.m. Wednesday at the Oaklawn Cemetery.

Cole leaned back in his chair and stared blankly at the screen. The description of Ruth’s life had been rather succinct, and certainly didn’t do justice to the young woman he remembered. She’d lived through a horrible childhood, carried enough baggage to fill a plane’s cargo hold and had a gift for defusing tense moments with a wisecrack, but she’d always been a great listener.

And now Ruth was gone. Of course, he hadn’t talked to her since that weekend, but now he wished he’d contacted her and told her that he’d taken her advice. He’d faced his demons and followed his heart. Now it was too late.

Then again, Ruth had probably known …

It was hard to believe that someone Cole’s own age, someone who should have lived another fifty years or so, someone with whom Cole had grown up with, was gone. Her death gave him a glimpse of his own mortality, and suddenly he wished he’d taken off the entire week to spend with Sara instead of just two days.

For an instant, he toyed with the idea of attending Ruth’s funeral, then decided against it. Depending on how old her son was, offering condolences would either be overwhelming or wouldn’t mean anything at this point. It would be better if he wrote a letter for the boy to read when he was ready—a letter telling him what a wonderful friend his mother had been.

And although he knew Ruth would never have mentioned their one-night stand to anyone even in passing, in one tiny corner of his heart he was relieved that now it would remain a secret for all eternity.

CHAPTER ONE

“WHAT do you say you run away with me this weekend?” Sebastian Lancaster asked Sara two days later as she straightened his bedsheets during her last patient round before her shift-change report. “I know this great little place for dancing. I could show you a few steps that will make your head spin.”

Sara smiled at her eighty-five-year-old patient who relied on a walker and wheezed with every breath, thanks to his years of habitual smoking. No doubt the only head that would spin with any sudden move would be his.

“No can do,” she said cheerfully, already anticipating her upcoming weekend away from the daily grind of hospitals, patients and housework. “I already have plans.”

“No problem.” He coughed. “What is it they say? Plans are made to be broken.”

“I think you’re referring to rules, not plans,” she corrected.

He waved a wrinkled, age-spotted hand. “Same difference. It’s been ages since I’ve tangoed and if I’m not mistaken, you’d be good at it. Got the legs for it.”

Knowing the elderly gentleman couldn’t see past his elbow, she let his comment about her legs slide. “I’ll bet you were quite the Fred Astaire in your day,” she commented, giving the top blanket a final pat.

“Oh, I was. My wife and I could have outshone these young whippersnappers on those celebrity dance shows. So whaddya say? Wanna spring me from this joint so we can take a spin?”

She laughed at his suitably hopeful expression, although they both knew she couldn’t fulfill his request. Between his emphysema and current bout of pneumonia, he was struggling to handle basic activities, much less add a strenuous activity like dancing. However, his physical limitations didn’t stop this perpetual flirt from practicing his pickup lines. Sara guessed his wife must have been adept at keeping his behavior in check, or else she’d turned a blind eye to his Romeo attitude.

“Sorry, but I’m already running away this weekend,” she told him, glancing at the drip rate of his IV. “With my husband, who just happens to be your doctor.”

He nodded matter-of-factly, as if not particularly disappointed by his failure. “Shoulda known. The pretty ones are always taken. Must say, though …” he stopped to cough “… that if Doc had the good sense to pick you out of the eligible women, then he’s got a good head on his shoulders.”

“I like to think so,” she said lightly, aware that her relationship with Cole had endured some dark days. However, in spite of the usual differences of opinion between people of diverse backgrounds and ideas, in spite of his initial reluctance to commit and in spite of her miscarriage nine months ago, life had been good.

“You two just going away for nothing better to do or for something special?”

“It’s our three-year anniversary,” she replied. “Actually, we still have a few weeks before the actual date, but this was the only weekend we could both get away.”

“Ah, then you’re still newlyweds. I’ll bet you’re eager to have your second honeymoon, even if it wasn’t that long ago since your first, eh?” He cackled at his joke before ending on a cough.

Sara smiled. “It’s always great to get away, honeymoon or not.”

She’d been looking forward to this weekend for a month now and could hardly wait. Cole, on the other hand, had been preoccupied the last few days, which had been somewhat surprising because he’d been as eager to stay in the haunted historic hotel as she was.

“Too much to do before I can leave with an easy conscience,” he’d said when she’d asked.

While that was probably true—as a hospitalist, he’d put in long hours to ensure the doctors covering his patients would find everything in order while he was gone—she had to wonder if something else wasn’t on his mind. Still, she was confident that once they shook the dust of Nolan Heights off their feet, he’d leave those worries behind. And if distance didn’t help, then the skimpy black lace negligee in her suitcase would.

“Well, go and have a good time,” Sebastian said. “If he takes you dancing, dance a slow one for me.” He winked one rheumy brown eye.

“I will,” she promised. “When I come back to work on Monday, if you’re still here, I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Do that,” he said before he closed his eyes, clearly spent from their short conversation.

Sara strode out of the room, her soft soles silent on the linoleum. She’d begun to chart her final notes for her patients when another nurse, Millie Brennan, joined her.

“How’s Mr. Lancaster this afternoon?”

Sara smiled at the twenty-six-year-old, somewhat jealous of her strawberry blond tresses when her own short hair was unremarkably brown. The only plus was that Sara’s curls were natural whereas Millie’s came from a bottle.