Tempted by the Hot Highland Doc
He pointed to the half-erected tree. ‘This has been here for as long as I have. And, Ms Objectionable Reporter, the stuff you say about lifting spirits and orientating to time and place is right. But...’ he paused ‘...our biggest issue in this season is winter vomiting—also known as norovirus. If we end up with that?’ He held up his hands and shook his head. ‘There’s a huge outbreak cleaning protocol, and something like this would have to be taken down and disposed of if it had been in a clinical area.’ He gave a shrug. ‘Better safe than sorry.’
She picked up a piece of sparkling green tinsel and draped it around his neck. ‘Aw, it’s a shame. Maybe you could impersonate the Christmas tree instead?’
‘Ha-ha. Now, don’t you have patients to film?’
‘Don’t you have patients to see?’
The nursing assistant’s head turned from side to side, smiling at the flirtation and teasing going on before her very eyes. ‘Glad to see you two are finally getting on,’ she said under her breath.
It gave Rhuaridh a bit of a jolt and he nodded and strode towards the ward. ‘Catch up if you can,’ he shouted over his shoulder.
He spent the next hour reviewing patients, writing prescriptions and watching Kristie out of the corner of his eye. She seemed easier, relaxed even. By now everyone was used to Gerry hovering around in the background with the camera.
It was nice to see her that way. She had a long conversation with one of the older men who was recuperating after a hip operation. She tried a few Christmas carols with a couple of the female patients. She helped put out cups of tea and coffee, and was particularly interested in the range of cakes that appeared from the hospital kitchen.
‘It’s like a baker’s shop,’ she said in wonder.
The nurse near her nodded. ‘We find that often appetites are smaller when patients get older. Our kitchen staff are great. The cook was even in earlier, asking people what their favourites were. That’s why we have Bakewell tarts, Empire biscuits and fairy cakes.’
Rhuaridh heard Kristie whisper, ‘Don’t you get into trouble about the sugar?’
The nurse shook her head. ‘Not at this point. Calories are important. Look around. Most of our patients are underweight, not overweight. We’d rather feed them what they like than look at artificial supplements.’
Kristie flitted from one patient to the next, squeezing hands and making jokes. Occasionally he glimpsed a far-off look in her eye that didn’t last long. The patients loved her.
But the more he watched, the more he had nagging doubts. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t like her. The whole world could see that he did. But was the whole world also laughing at him? After all, what would a gorgeous girl from LA find interesting about a Scottish island? There were no TV studios, no job opportunities. Most of the time during winter half the island shut down. There was no cinema. No department stores—only a few local shops. There was one slightly posher hotel with a swimming pool, gym and spa but there wasn’t a selection to choose from. And there were only two hairdressers on the entire island. Kristie had already told him she loved trying different places.
Zoe’s words echoed around his head. Boring. Dull. Nothing to do.
He hadn’t been able to maintain a long-term relationship with a woman in Glasgow just over fifty miles away. How on earth could he even contemplate anything with a woman from LA—five thousand miles away? He must be losing his marbles.
Just at that moment, Kristie leaned forward and pressed her head against that of one of the older, more confused patients. He could see she was talking quietly to him. His hands were trembling, and Kristie put her own over his, squeezing them in reassurance. She pointed to the Christmas tree through the doors. She was orientating him to time and place.
And that was it. A little bit of his heart melted. Did it really matter if this would come to nothing? Maybe it was time for him to start living in the here and now.
And the here and now for him was that Kristie would still be visiting for three days a month for the next four months. And if that was all he’d get, he’d be a fool to let it slip through his fingers.