The Surgeon's Christmas Wish

“Go on, you silly little thing.” His mother couldn’t help laughing at her son’s pell-mell style of story. “Tell the doctor what happened next.”

“Well … it turns out it was harder to go down the stairs than I thought and I tripped and fell and bumped all the way to the bottom.” Henry gave Tara a triumphant grin.

“Looks like you showed those stairs who was boss.” Tara smiled at his bravery.

“If this isn’t proof my husband should’ve booked a cabin instead of the townhouse, I don’t know what is!” Mrs. Carroll was trying to keep her voice light, but a slight waver betrayed her anxiety.

Tara smiled reassuringly. “Believe me, accidents can happen anywhere. I’m sure this was nothing you could have foreseen. Henry, do you mind if I take a look at your wrist?”

The little boy automatically pulled his arm towards his stomach.

“It’s okay, Henry. I know it must hurt.” Tara reached into a drawer behind her and pulled out a child’s instant cold compress. Giving the packet an experienced twist and shake, she handed it to the boy. “Why don’t you hold this on your wrist for a minute?” Once he had the pack resting on his arm, Tara continued, “I’d better do a check to make sure you didn’t conk your head too hard when you landed.” She bent her knees so she was level with his eye line. “Can you just follow my finger?”

A few tests and a soft splint later, Tara felt satisfied that Henry had no permanent damage.

“Looks like you have a resilient son here, Mrs. Carroll, but I’m afraid his wrist is sprained. I think we can safely rule out a break as he has a full range of movement despite the swelling. Forty-eight hours of rest, elevation and cold compresses should help ease the pain.”

Tara couldn’t stop herself from ruffling Henry’s curly blond hair. She’d always imagined she’d have a little boy. A couple of them. Not that she was too bothered if they were boys or girls. Just healthy kids, part of a happy family. Ah, well. Dreams were just that. Fanciful flights of your imagination. No room for those any more.

Clearing her throat, Tara wiggled a playful finger at Henry. “Be sure to listen to your mom, now. We’ll get you back out on those slopes lickety-split.” Henry grinned with relief.

Turning, Tara addressed Henry’s mother, “Make sure you call me if he complains of any dizziness, nausea or starts to have any balance problems. Here’s a sheet listing concussion symptoms to look out for, but I’m pretty certain you’re in the clear.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Braxton. This will certainly make our Thanksgiving vacation more interesting! I hope you and your family have a great holiday.”

Tara’s brow cinched into a furrow, her thumb moving mechanically to the finger that had once held a diamond solitaire. She was here on her own. And that’s how she liked it.

“Just me and my stethoscope, I’m afraid!” Tara shook the stethoscope in what she hoped looked like a carefree manner.

“I’m so sorry, I just assumed …” The poor woman looked mortified.

“Not to worry. An easy mistake to make.”

Tara held her smile until the mother and son walked out of her exam room.

Just the mountains and me. Just the way I like it.

Fraser grinned as the cowbell rang out when he entered the log cabin-style café next to the clinic. He’d spent seasons in all types of ski resorts, but there was something different about Deer Creek. His staff condo didn’t have the usual temporary feeling hanging about it and the resort village itself, just a small main street with a smattering of specialized shops and a fire department, was … welcoming. That was it. Welcoming. The place made him feel like he’d come home. Which was rich coming from someone who’d been born several thousand miles away and had actively avoided having a permanent address for the past four years.

He felt his smile fade. Four years. Four years that would never bring his brother back, no matter how many times he went over his options that day. He’d survived. His kid brother hadn’t. It was as simple as that.

Fraser shook the thoughts away and stepped up to the counter heaving with scones, fruity muffins, oversized brownies, and to-die-for cookies. He didn’t usually go in for baked goods so early, but he had just snowboarded for a good hour.

“What can I do you for?” A cheerful woman behind the counter with a thick braid running down her back smiled up at him.

“What would you recommend for a man who is about to start his first day of work?”

“Ooh! New job, eh? First impressions are very important.”

Fraser winced at the memory of the first impression he’d made on Tara. Definitely not a winning one, that was for sure. Ah, well. It’s not strictly as if his new colleague had skied straight off the slopes of the Deer Creek charm academy.

“You will want to have just the right breakfast if you’re going to cut it up here in Deer Creek.” Her eyes twinkled as she put on a mock expression of gravity and scanned his options.

“If I were you, and bear in mind I made everything you see here before you, I would start with a caffe latte and a blueberry muffin because I picked the berries myself and powered up the dough with a bit of protein powder.”

“That sounds good. I will need all the strength I can get today.”

“And why is that exactly?” The woman leant forward conspiratorially. “Is the new boss a bit of an ogre?”

“Exactly! Wait, no. Hmm …” Fraser reconsidered, enjoying the playful tête-à-tête with the café owner, “More like a drill sergeant in a sexy ski suit. Nothing I can’t handle. Particularly if I bribe her with a few of these treats you have here.”

“So your boss is a bit of a push-over, is she?”

The sound of Tara’s voice hit Fraser’s nerve endings before he saw her. Great. Just great. If she was going to be this sensitive about everything that came out of his mouth it was going to be a long season.

“Morning, Tara! So this is the new doc you hired?”

“You guessed right, Marian. I’m afraid I am to blame.” Tara offered a hundred-watt smile to Marian and a cool half-glance in Fraser’s direction. Is that all you’ve got? C’mon, Dr. Braxton. You’ll have to play harder than that if you want to stick in the daggers. This could be fun.

“Oh, I wouldn’t blame you for hiring this one.” The café owner gave Tara a naughty grin, not even attempting to hide her approval of Fraser’s looks. And we can chalk another point up for MacKenzie!

Tara leant forward conspiratorially, a smile playing on her lips and her eyes trained on Fraser as she addressed her friend. “Trust me, Marian, if I’d realized I’d hired a speed freak who has problems with his superiors I would’ve gone straight back to the drawing board.”

Fraser flinched, unable to staunch the memory of his commanding officer ordering him to return from the combat zone. So it’s time for hardball, is it? If Tara wanted to play this game, it was fine with him. He didn’t have anything to lose. Not any more.

“The ink’s hardly dry on my contract …”

“I don’t think we’re quite at that point.” Tara met his gaze, the merest hint of a question in her eyes. “Are we?” It was a statement. Not a question.

No. Perhaps not just yet. He was the one who chose when to leave. Not the other way around. Besides, just a couple of mini-encounters with this woman and he knew instinctively she was more substance than style. And she had buckets of style.

“Will you have the regular, dear?” Marian interjected, seemingly oblivious to the verbal sparring match being played out in front of her muffin display.

“Yes, please, Marian, and could you also add on whatever Dr. MacKenzie would like as well? We wouldn’t want him thinking we are bereft of manners out here in the wilds of Deer Creek.”

There was that fiery glint in Tara’s eyes again. How playfully or not it shone was up in the air.

She sure was a live wire. Even so, the last thing Fraser wanted was for Tara to think he was a sexist pig. Women were paramount in his life. His mother had almost single-handedly raised him and his brother, with their father’s military career consuming most of his time. And his brother’s wife? Well, he had met few people who could hold a candle to the strength and determination she had shown the past few years. He closed his eyes for a moment, willing the images of his family to stay behind the door he’d had to shut four years ago. They were better off without him.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

“And why is that, exactly?” Tara’s dark eyes held his gaze, genuinely curious.

“Because we are professionals and while you may run the clinic, I am quite able to fend for myself.”

“No one’s doubting your ability to buy a blueberry muffin, Dr. MacKenzie. What I am doubting, is your ability to accept some Deer Creek hospitality.”

Fraser was a master at keeping his cool and he was damned if he was going to blow his top over who was or wasn’t going to buy a blueberry muffin. This whole palaver would be a lot easier if Tara didn’t make a glaring expression and firmly crossed arms look so attractive. Fraser was no chauvinist, but he certainly was about as red-blooded a male as they came.

He took a level breath and continued, “Where I come from, manners are paramount.” He saw her eyes narrow dubiously. “It is not unusual for a new employee to greet their boss with a purely professional, no-strings-attached latte and a …” he glanced at the counter as Marian brought out a huge plate of pancakes and a steaming pitcher of syrup “… very impressive plate of pancakes.”

Marian leaned in before Tara could respond. “Keep this one on, honey. I think we’ll like having him around the place.”

Tara shot her friend an I-love-you-but-you’re-not-really-helping look.

Okay. He definitely had charming and suave covered. Not so sure about the “professional” part.

Good grief. Chill out, Tara! Fraser seemed sincere enough. And her last comment had clearly hit a nerve. Not entirely sure which nerve, but there was definitely more going on than met the eye with this man. Anyhow, she hadn’t heard the entire conversation with Marian so it wasn’t entirely fair to judge. Eat your pancakes and let it go! Besides, staring into those startlingly azure eyes of his wasn’t exactly helping her focus. Neither was the fact that he had called her a drill sergeant. Maybe she’d pushed the cool and reserved boss thing a bit too far.

This wasn’t fair! She had worked hard to get herself back to the fun-loving person she had always been before New York and now she was coming across all grouchy and horrible.

“I’ll throw in one of Marian’s salted caramel brownies for later if that will seal the deal.” Fraser tipped his head in the direction of her absolutely favorite indulgence and gave her a knowing wink.

“Now, let’s not go overboard.” It was difficult to keep a smile from creeping onto her lips. The man was good. No doubt about it. “A plate of pancakes will suffice to give us a clean slate.” Tara knew she sounded churlish but she didn’t want Fraser to think his charming smile was actually making her go weak at the knees. Which it was. Or that his long-lashed wink had unleashed a reel of goose-bumps up her arms. Which it had. But she had to ignore that now and act like his boss. Which she was.

Arghhhh! Why didn’t she ask for photos of her applicants?

“For heaven’s sake, honey.” She felt Marian poking her arm playfully. “Let the man buy you a brownie. You know they’re your favorite and they were freshly baked this morning!” Marian adorned her sales pitch with a musical trill as Fraser put on what she imagined was his best contrite expression.

“Thank you. I gratefully accept.” Tara quickly whisked her pancakes off the counter and made her way to a window table before she made a bigger fool of herself. Any more deep and meaningful eye contact with Dr. Fraser MacKenzie would be a swan dive into a danger zone she didn’t want to enter. Not in a million years.

Tara took advantage of his turned back to lean her head against the cool window for a moment before pulling her fingers through her hat-head hair. She could hear Fraser laugh quietly with Marian as he settled the bill. Even across the room that sexy voice of his put her senses on high alert. Who was she kidding? Every single thing about the man had her feeling more alive than she’d ever felt and she’d only known him for a New York second. New York. The place that had taught her how important it was to be careful—guarded. To look after number one.

Sighing, she picked up her fork and stabbed at a pancake. Maybe she was a bit uptight. But that was hardly her fault. Life had taught her to be wary and Fraser was setting off all of her alarm bells. Besides, she primly reminded herself, he had nearly had a serious collision with her this morning so she had a right to be cross with him. And another thing! Did he have to be so—so accurate in assessing her character when they’d known each other less than five minutes? She would have to be tough. Cool. Professional.

“One gingerbread latte for the good doctor.”

Uh-oh. Was that Scottish accent of his going to get her every time?

CHAPTER TWO

“HOW DID YOU know to get me a gingerbread latte?”

“I had some help.” Fraser nodded towards Marian, who threw a coy beauty-queen wave in their direction.

Tara couldn’t help but give him a smile of thanks as he pushed the steaming mug of cinnamon-scented coffee across the table. Poor sap didn’t know he was being used. Marian had been trying to set her up with just about every male with a pulse she’d met since she’d arrived in Deer Creek just over a year ago. Heartbroken. No. Heart shut. Heart shut for good. Which was exactly why she and ol’ Dr. MacKenzie here needed to get things off to a more professional start.

“How’s the little boy doing?”

Tick! Top marks for starting off with a work question, Fraser.

“He’ll be fine, thank goodness. His wrist was sprained, which was the worst of it. He had a small cut on his forehead, but no concussion.”

“I suppose you get your fair share of sprains up here.”

Tara sat back in the worn leather chair and laughed, relieved to be back on familiar terrain: doctor talk. “Not to mention broken clavicles, arms, legs. The regular business is in ligaments. I’m sure you’ll agree it’s the same in every ski resort, but by the end of the season you’ll be examining medial collateral and anterior cruciate ligament injuries in your sleep!”

He liked how her eyes crinkled when she laughed. In fact, Fraser liked how Tara’s whole face lit up when she spoke about medicine. It clearly fuelled her.

“Oh, and I forgot to say, I do a couple of voluntary shifts every couple of weeks at the local hospital in the ER. I’m sure Valley Hospital would welcome it if you followed suit but it’s by no means required.”

“To see patients from the clinic?” Fraser was impressed. Tara really seemed to see things through with her patients.

“No, not really. I mean, if they’re there, obviously I’d see them, but it helps me keep all of my skills up to speed and, more importantly, I don’t want the locals thinking we are a bunch of elite medics who swan in and out with the good snow. It’s mostly about giving a bit back to the community. Proving we’re here for the long haul.”

Fraser’s grip tightened on his coffee mug. Ouch. That one had hit a bullseye.

“How about altitude sickness? Much of a problem with that?”

Tara pushed her lips forward in a let-me-think-about-it-for-a-second expression. She was clearly unaware of the fact that her thinking pout was about as close an invitation to give her lips a languorous après-ski kiss as you could get. Fraser shifted in his chair. Lasting this season bachelor-style was definitely going to be a bit tougher than he’d thought.

“Not too much,” she continued, oblivious to the not-necessarily-unpleasant sensations Fraser was experiencing. “I’ve only been here a year or so, but the only altitude sickness case I’ve come across was a couple who went heli-skiing who hadn’t been before. The chopper crew got to them before any of their symptoms became too severe and we were able to get them home safely.”

Helicopters. Fraser felt his lips twitch involuntarily. He hadn’t been behind the controls of a helicopter since … Well, long enough that he shouldn’t be having a physical reaction at the mention of a helicopter. Maybe he should’ve talked to someone about it when he’d had the chance. Someone in the forces.

Who was he kidding? It had only been recently he’d felt anywhere near being able to speak about that day. But not to just anyone. If he were to open up, which was unlikely, he would need to speak to someone who could understand precisely how scarred he felt. The chances of finding someone else who could understand what it was like to be responsible for their own brother’s death, leaving his wife a widow and two children fatherless—well—they were pretty small.

“Many deaths?” It slipped out. Sounded too keen. He felt a scowl form.

“No. Sorry to disappoint you.” Tara’s dark eyes turned quizzical, obviously wondering why a lack of extreme trauma would upset someone who’d taken the Hippocratic oath to care and protect.

“We do get the odd spinal injury, and the rescue crews have seen their share of fatalities over the years. To be honest, I try not to dwell on the extreme cases, because it just means someone’s life has gotten a whole lot harder.”

Fraser sighed heavily, nodding in agreement. He could relate to that. “It’s part of the job. Seeing people’s lives, their dreams, come to an abrupt halt.”

Tara felt herself examining Fraser more closely. The cavalier guy who’d been trying to win her over with her favorite coffee seemed to have been spirited away. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Something dark. Was he lost in the same black hole she’d been pushed into after her ex had betrayed her? She scanned his face. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge.

Don’t go there, Tara. He’s male. Emotions only run skin deep. No loyalty.

“Listen.” She stabbed her fork into a final triangle of pancake. “I’d bet none of the injuries we have here are different from what you’ve seen at any other ski resort. Probably the biggest difference up here in Deer Creek are the bears.”

“Bears?” Fraser felt his eyebrows raise a little too high. Had his voice risen too? Unlikely.

Tara laughed and clapped her hands, “You should see yourself! A big strong man like you getting all nervy over a little grizzly bear.”

So she thought he was big and strong, eh? That was a plus. Little grizzly bear? Yeah, right. Fraser cleared his throat, trying to regain some professional composure.

“What do you do in the cases of a severe injury on the slopes?”

“The ski patrol up here is really good,” Tara enthused. “The boys work on the same radio frequency as we do and they are all trained to a high level of first aid. In fact, a couple of them are the local ambulance medics during the summer, so they know their stuff.”

Fraser felt himself nodding along with Tara’s breakdown of how the ski support staff all worked together in Deer Creek. Sounded like a smooth operation. Good blueberry muffins as well. He could definitely do with one of these every morning.

As if on cue, Tara’s radio began to crackle to life with the ski patrol radio tag. She pulled it off her belt and set it between the two of them on the table.

“Morning, team.” They heard the male voice continue, “Afraid we’ve got a fifty-three-year-old male presenting with a cardiac arrest. Ski Patrol Unit One is administering CPR. They are about five minutes out from the clinic on the Starlight Slope. Tara, do you read? Switch to Channel Two. Over.”

Tara simultaneously picked up the radio and rose from her chair. Speaking into the radio, she gestured for Fraser to follow her and gave Marian a quick wave goodbye. “We’re on our way to the clinic now. Do you need an AED on site? Over.”

“Negative. Patrol has a defibrillator on the skidoo. Prepare for arrival of patient. Over.”

Tara pulled on her jacket, giving Fraser a concerned glance. “Are you sure you’re up to starting now? You’re not scheduled yet.”

“You bet your woolen socks I’ll help.” Fraser was all too aware that the first few minutes after a person suffered from cardiac arrest were critical in terms of maintaining an oxygen-rich blood flow to the body’s vital organs. Compromising those precious opportunities just because he wasn’t on a roster? Not a chance.

As they jogged the few yards to the clinic, Tara looked up at slopes at the sound of the approaching skidoo. The ski patrollers were highly visible in their bright red jackets with white crosses on the back. She saw one of them administering CPR whilst riding on the rescue stretcher with the patient.

Not a good sign.

Tara ran into the clinic, calling out to Liesel about the incoming patient.

“Already on it!” replied the nurse, pulling open the double doors to the trauma room housing all the necessary equipment.

Tara did a quick scrub at the sink and turned round to see Fraser carrying in the stretchered patient along with one of the patrollers. Good to see he wasn’t afraid to lend a hand. On Fraser’s quick count, they shifted the man to the exam table.

“How long has he been out?” His voice was all business.

“Two to three minutes max. The patient is suffering pulseless ventricular tachycardia,” came the reply. It was Brian, an EMT based in the Valley. Tara had worked with him on a couple of river rescues over the summer. Reliable. He would’ve been doing all he could. “You guys need me in the room?”

Tara looked up quickly at Fraser, “I think Dr. MacKenzie and I have this one?” He nodded a quick assent, simultaneously unzipping the man’s jacket to reveal a skintight ski shirt.

“Scissors?”

Tara quickly pulled a pair out from a drawer and handed them to him, while steering the heart-rate monitor to the head of the gurney.

“Update before you go, Brian?” Tara worked as she spoke, reaching for the defibrillator.

Brian spoke from the doorway, giving the doctors room around the patient, “We administered on-site CPR for three minutes and confirmed chest rises, but no pulse. We administered one shock from the defibrillator, and received a weak pulse and heart rate. We then lost the pulse after loading the patient onto the rescue stretcher so I continued to administer CPR until now.”

Tara thanked Brian, who slipped out of the room as Fraser efficiently cut away the clothing surrounding the man’s chest, applied lubricant and stood clear in order for her to apply the shock from the defibrillator.

They both stood completely still for a moment, waiting for the tell-tale beeps on the heart-rate monitor. Silence. Silence.

They repeated their motions—each working wordlessly—only looking to one another for confirmation of the other’s movement. Eighty percent of patients could survive a heart attack with prompt defibrillation.

Tara increased the charge. “Clear!”

Fraser stepped back.

They waited again, listening, watching the patient for signs of a response.

Silence.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Tara heaved a sigh of relief. They’d done it. She looked up at Fraser and received a broad smile of confirmation. A shot of heat poured straight into her stomach. Espresso hot and just as stimulating. Uh-oh. She hadn’t experienced girly flutterings like this for some time. A long time. And that was just the way she liked it. Clean and simple. No feelings. Just medicine.

She tried to shrug away the growing suspicion that working with Fraser would be much more than “just medicine.” They’d saved this man’s life. With medicine. And now just one lovely, warm smile and her knees were going all wobbly. Terrific.

“Arthur Jones.”

“What?” Tara was jolted back into the room at the sound of Fraser’s voice.