The Surgeon's Christmas Wish Read online

  “You don’t have to decide this minute.” Tara laid a hand on Mrs. Fremont’s shoulder. “It’s a big decision. Why don’t you take a break, go and get some coffee and we’ll meet up once you’ve had a chance to digest everything. If there’s anything you want to know, anything at all, just page me.”

  The couple smiled gratefully and headed off to the canteen. Tara felt herself tugged towards the surgical ward. She wanted an update on Eric and, she couldn’t help admitting, she wanted an update on Fraser.

  He’d shown incredible fortitude up on the mountain, his medical skills overriding any personal trauma he might have been experiencing. Not many people were able face their fears head on. She didn’t feel so much surprised by the revelation as comforted. He was a man she would want to be with in a crisis. If only he wanted to stay here in Deer Creek, give settling down a chance.

  She felt her teeth begin the familiar pinch along her lower lip. She’d come to know Fraser pretty well over the past few weeks. It was clear they shared a mutual attraction. Playing it slow had been hard. For both of them. It didn’t take a Nobel prizewinner to notice they each had to actively restrain themselves from sharing any more of those incredible kisses. Kisses she relived each time she closed her eyes at night. And slow dances for that matter.

  Tara renewed her quick pace to try and shake the images away. Not easy. A spiral of warmth gently ribboned up her spine, sending tingles of electricity along her neck and scalp. She pulled her hands through her hair, trying to scrub away the sensation as she approached the surgical ward. Dreaming of more time with Fraser beyond the ski season was useless. If there was one thing she was sure about, commitment was not his game.

  *

  “He’s clotting.” Fraser’s voice was tight as he set the surgical staff back in motion. An arterial embolism or blood clot was the last thing Eric needed. They had only just managed to keep his heart pumping throughout the helicopter trip to Valley Hospital. Whether or not he had sustained any brain damage was yet to be determined, but a blocked artery could spell immediate death.

  Fraser felt as if he was watching himself go through the motions. He knew them well. Working as a trauma surgeon in the military, he had been through this operation a hundred, no, countless times. Some made it, some didn’t.

  “He’s stroking.” The nurse spoke the words out loud, although everyone in the room could see it happening.

  They worked silently, diligently. The chances of Eric living a normal life had already passed. As the moments slipped past Fraser knew in his heart what the rest of the staff had already taken on board. They were losing him. They were losing Eric and the only person unwilling to see the situation for what it was was himself.

  “Just stay with me.” He doubted the staff could’ve heard the plea he’d whispered behind his surgical mask. He felt himself going into overdrive, unable to bear losing Eric. Sure, they were new friends, had only known each other a handful of weeks, but the young man’s faith in life, his unshakeable belief in the value of taking the risk of love and marriage—committing to someone for life—had really struck him.

  For Fraser, falling in love with Tara was a forbidden pleasure. Staying in Deer Creek, seeing her through life’s ups and downs? He ached for it, but fought against his belief that he didn’t deserve to enjoy that level of happiness. Watching Eric make decisions about his life and his relationship with Liesel had helped Fraser feel less lost at sea as he tried to come to terms with healing his own wounds from the past. If an adrenaline junkie like Eric could settle down, there was certainly hope for him. Wasn’t there?

  The tell-tale tone from the heart monitor brought the situation to a head. After two hours of surgery Eric had flatlined. They had exhausted all their options. A dozen pairs of eyes in the OR turned to him, waiting for instructions.

  Unable to say the words himself, Eric nodded at one of the Valley Hospital general surgeons. “Call it.”

  “Time of death: four-forty-five p.m.”

  *

  As his surgical team closed up procedures on Eric, watching Fraser pull off his gown and leave the room tore at Tara’s heart. Numbness crept into her limbs as she began to register what had happened.

  Eric was dead.

  She couldn’t even begin to fathom how Liesel was going to take the news, let alone his family. Instinct took over. She left the observation booth intent on finding Fraser. Losing Eric would be a terrible blow to him. Not just because losing any patient was painful but also because she’d seen a friendship developing between the two men over the past few weeks. A friendship that had given her the occasional flicker of hope that Fraser might just consider staying.

  She looked everywhere. No Fraser. It was as if he’d vanished into thin air. Despite her best efforts, Tara felt the beginnings of a small fissure of panic working its way into her psyche. Please, let him stay.

  After what seemed like hours, but had probably been less than one, Tara finally spied the familiar thatch of chestnut hair. Still dressed in his scrubs, Tara watched as Fraser slowly sank into a chair, head cradled in his hands. Raw emotion burned her throat, choking away the words of comfort she had hoped to share with him. Tears stung her eyes as she approached him. His stillness was so complete it seemed to create an invisible barrier between them.

  She ached to help him. He wouldn’t go through this alone, not if she could help it. Tara felt herself reach out and run her fingers through his hair, a gesture her mother used to do to her when she was sad. With Fraser, it felt incredibly intimate. As she repeated the gesture, she felt him gently lean his head so that some of its weight rested in her hand, a small groan escaping his lips. Never before had she felt such pain in witnessing someone else’s sorrow.

  “I’m so sorry, Fraser. I saw the surgery and there was nothing you could have done.”

  Lifting his face from his hands, Fraser’s expression was a transparent exposé of the agony he was feeling. Tears clouded his eyes as he wordlessly pulled her towards him, a hand drawing across her thighs so that she came to a seated position on his lap. His scent flooded her senses to the extent she felt he was physically a part of her. Fraser wordlessly buried his head in the crook of her shoulder as if trying to find a way to hide from everything he was feeling.

  Suddenly, abruptly, Fraser wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer into him as if holding her was the only thing in the world he could do right now. Tearless sobs shuddered through him. His arms pulled her in even tighter with a fierceness she hadn’t known before. Somehow, through his grief, Fraser was including her, silently inviting her to share their sorrow together. The gesture felt selfless, inclusive. Tears flooded her eyes as the full weight of the day’s events began to make its lasting impression.

  As doctors, they saw death more than most, but it never made it easier. Cases like this, involving loved ones—how could you not feel anguish? No doubt Fraser’s sorrow bore the additional burden of his hidden grief. She hoped with all her heart he could share it with her someday—lighten the load. The drive to save Eric that she had seen in him spoke to her. Spoke to her of a man who would stop at nothing if it meant saving a life. She hadn’t believed the intensity of emotion she felt growing within her for Fraser the past few weeks could have deepened.

  Would a future without this man be possible? Would she be able to open her heart up that freely again? Not that he’d offered it as an option. But here in the hospital corridor, the hustle and bustle of the hospital blurring into white noise, arms wrapped around each other, it was as if nothing else mattered.

  *

  Fraser must have heard Tara’s name over the Tannoy system first.

  “Sounds like you’re needed, Dr. Braxton.” He cleared his throat and flicked his eyes up towards the speaker above them.

  She felt his arms release her, his hands slip slowly down her arms as if reluctant to let go. She knew how he felt.

  “It must be the Fremonts. They’ll have made a decision about Katie’s surgery, I expect.�
� Tara stood up, taking a quick scan of the hallway for a bathroom. She definitely needed to splash some cold water on her face before facing Katie’s parents.

  “Ah, yes.” He raked a hand through his hair before raising a mysterious brow in her direction. “How could I forget?”

  Tara watched as Fraser’s eyes darkened. Strange. He couldn’t know anything about Katie’s surgery.

  “I’ve got to get back to the Fremonts.”

  Fraser stretched his arms up to the ceiling before folding them in what seemed like a solid closed-for-Business gesture across his chest.

  “Go. I’m fine.” His voice was flat. Tara’s heart felt as though it was going through a shredder. She longed to hold him again, be held by him and share their collective grief. Yet her professional ethics were paramount and she wouldn’t keep the Fremonts waiting. Particularly now that she might have a chance to use her new procedure.

  “I’ll probably be a while. See you back in Deer Creek?”

  *

  Fraser could hear the hopefulness in her voice. He wanted to respond to it, knew he must respond to it, but felt as though his body had been taken over by some sort of speech paralysis.

  He offered her a nod and a half-wave, a feeble attempt to convey the tidal wave of emotion he was experiencing.

  Watching her retreat down the hall, Fraser felt a physical ache of loss. Eric didn’t have the chance he had now. If he didn’t take it, let Tara know how she had upended his world in the best way possible, he knew he’d win the prize for international idiot of the year. His brother would’ve handed him the ribbon himself. If he’d been there.

  He punched at the empty corridor, willing it to take him on. Something was going to have to change. Holding her, Fraser had felt as though Tara and he had become a single unit. One incredibly strong, able, fearless person who could take on life’s disappointments and grow stronger. And yet none of that diminished the fact that she was an extraordinary individual. He didn’t want to change a single thing about her. He hadn’t missed the glint of excitement crackling in her eyes as she’d mentioned her procedure. A spark of passion he hadn’t felt for a while. Hadn’t allowed himself to feel. He’d been too heavy with guilt, with grief, and had allowed them to darken his world rather than appreciate everything he did have.

  “Tara.” He heard her name escape his lips then gave a dry laugh. His utterance had sounded a little close to Scarlett O’Hara’s final cry at the end of Gone With the Wind as she’d mourned her beloved plantation, now burnt to the ground. What to do now?

  He turned towards the hospital exit with an explosion of purpose he hadn’t anticipated. At last. He knew exactly what to do.

  *

  Tara stared at the Fremonts, unable to believe what she was hearing.

  “I’m sorry. Who was it who convinced you we should go ahead with the surgery?”

  The Fremonts glanced at each other before explaining again. “We were in the canteen when a Scottish doctor came in. He overheard us weighing up our options at the coffee bar and—”

  Mrs. Fremont quickly interrupted her husband’s story. “He wasn’t being rude—we were standing side by side.”

  “No, that’s right. He was very polite. Anyhow, Dr. MacKenzie, I believe he said his name was, told us we couldn’t be in safer hands. He seemed very aware of the surgery and assured us you would only do what was best for Katie.”

  Tara sat back in shock as she digested what the Fremonts were saying. Directly after Eric’s surgery—after Fraser had lost a patient—his first action had been to champion her. It was one of the most selfless things she had ever heard. Would she ever fully understand this man? Offering the Fremonts a relieved smile, her heart full of gratitude, she stood and gestured in the direction of Katie’s room. “Shall we have a chat with your daughter?”

  *

  Tara screamed as the thick pair of mittens closed over her eyes. She whirled around as fast as she could then lost her footing on the snowy front porch of the clinic and slipped to the ground. In a desperate attempt to get away she began to scrabble on her hands and knees away from the large pair of strangely familiar boots following her.

  “Tara, it’s me!”

  Relief flooded through her at the sound of the chocolaty rich voice. “What are you doing here?” She sat back, leaning against the clinic wall to catch her breath as she took in the sight of a mortified-looking Fraser.

  “I’m so sorry!”

  Nervous laughter burbled out of Tara’s lips as she accepted Fraser’s extended hand to help her up. Still warm and reassuring. Still the one hand in the universe that turned her insides into an untamed flight of tummy flutters.

  “You scared the daylights out of me!” Tara looked around the porch as if searching for answers to her questions. “I thought you’d gone back to your chalet.”

  Fraser picked up her handbag she’d dropped on the porch floor. “Apologies, apologies! Bad idea. It looks as though we are in danger of becoming the pratfall couple.”

  Tara knew it was only a throw-away comment, but Fraser mentioning them as a couple put her already jangled nerves into a right old tailspin. A life with Fraser? That’d be the day.

  “Why don’t you give me the keys to the clinic so I can lock up, and then let’s get you a glass of wine,” he continued, completely unaware of the fact Tara already had herself walking down the aisle straight into his unsuspecting arms. She handed him the keys, happy to catch a glimpse of the smile she’d been hoping to see since they parted ways at the hospital. The last twenty-four hours had been exhausting. Between the hospital, the clinic, losing Eric, informing Liesel, not to mention Eric’s family...

  Tara allowed herself a moment to lean against the doorframe, just soaking in the quiet mountain ambience. She turned her head. The mountains weren’t the only nice thing to look at around here. A smile teased at her lips as she drank in Fraser’s profile, all sexy angles, dark hair and long-lashed eyes. Oh, Lordy. There goes the strength in my knees again.

  Wine? Fraser? A dangerous combination. Particularly when it seemed she owed him untold thanks for tipping the Fremont’s decision-making process in her direction.

  Fraser handed back her keys and took one of her hands in his. Thanks, Fraser, more delectable tummy flutters!

  “This was meant to be a surprise, but perhaps going into things eyes wide open might be a good idea.”

  “Why are you talking in riddles?”

  He tipped his head in the direction of Main Street. “C’mon. You’ll see.”

  Tara followed wordlessly as Fraser led her along the recently cleared path towards what should have been a closed Marian’s Bakery.

  Was that candlelight she saw on her favorite mountain-view table?

  As if in a dream, she passed through the bakery door Fraser held open for her. A sharp intake of breath was the only response she could muster as she took in the shop’s transformation.

  Artfully rolled beeswax candles burned with a warm luster on her favorite table—a Formica 1950s affair now hidden beneath a thick, white linen tablecloth. Tiny fairy-lights twinkled around the window’s edges, having been woven around the curtain rail. The well-lit windows of the lodge glowed warmly in the distance.

  Poinsettias, red and white, decorated the small bar where customers normally stood to enjoy a quick croissant or hot chocolate before hitting the slopes for another couple of well-fortified hours. Her fingers flew to her mouth to stem a laugh of pure joy when she saw an artful arrangement of turkey-shaped gingerbread cookies presented as a centerpiece on the table. The aromas of a hot meal floated through the air. The scents of turkey and gravy were wafting around the store. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a couple of pies on a nearby table.

  If anyone had asked her to describe how she felt at that moment, Tara would have had to confess she felt completely and utterly filled with joy. This was what she had imagined being in love was like. Never before had anyone gone to this sort of effort for her. Was this what it was like
to be courted? Her ex had never even bothered and she had been so naïve at the time it hadn’t occurred to her that business dinners weren’t meant to double as dates.

  Running a single finger along the counter, Tara allowed herself to walk into the center of the bakery and take a slow turn, almost frightened that if she moved too quickly she would discover the whole scene had been a figment of her imagination.

  Who was she kidding? The last few weeks had been a dream. A fairly turbulent dream to be sure, but from the moment Fraser MacKenzie had walked, no, snowboarded into her world, it had been as if life in Deer Creek had turned into one of those magic snow globes she’d had as a child.

  “I know the real one didn’t measure up to much, so I thought we could have another stab at it. Happy Thanksgiving, Tara.”

  She felt Fraser’s presence before that incredible Scottish brogue of his shivered its way down her spine.

  Unable to turn and face him, Tara found herself fanning away the emotion threatening to escape her eyes. “I-I don’t know what to s-say.” She stammered to a halt, her voice barely a whisper.

  *

  Gently turning her round to face him, Fraser held Tara at arm’s length, a broad smile working its way across his lips. One look at her face told him the answer to everything he’d been wondering for the last few hours. The effort had been worth it. Not bad for a fellow who’d never had a Thanksgiving in his life.

  Tears shone in those perfectly rich brown eyes of hers, glinting off her wet lashes as if willing him to lean down and kiss them away. He hardly believed it was possible, but seeing Tara in the soft candlelight brought out an even greater beauty in her. Her white-as-milk skin was like a smooth invitation to reach out and stroke her cheek, to run a finger along her feminine jawline towards those plump, cherry lips.

  It was all but impossible to keep his hands to himself. But keep himself in check was exactly what he was going to do. This was phase one of his new take on life. He’d asked Tara for a future of friendship. His gut had been telling him he wanted more, would never be satisfied solely with friendship. It was, however, the foundation of some of the best relationships he had ever seen. So...