Stirling wipes sweat from her forehead, using one of the soft baby blankets tucked in the nappy bag, as she walks along the paved park path. It's an incredibly hot and humid summer day in London and she's looking forward to finding a vacant bench under a shady tree to rest.
A noise comes from under the raised hood of the black, antique perambulator she is pushing, forcing her to stop and peek underneath. Mason is still asleep, his little hands in tight fists, his arms splayed out above his head. She feels his cheeks to make sure he's not too warm. Satisfied, she continues walking.
Up ahead, she can see the entrance to the London Zoo, large groups of children and adults filing through to visit the animals.
She veers off the path, intent on reaching an empty wooden bench she can see shaded by a large willow tree near the bank of a small stream. She sighs with contentment as she sits down, engaging the brake on the pram with her foot. She leans back against the bench, wishing there was a breeze to cool her. She wipes her face again, sweat stinging her eyes.
Even though Regent's Park is teeming with people, it's quiet where she and Mason sit. She can hear the shouts and laughter of children plus music playing in the distance but rather than being loud and annoying, it's relaxing and soothing. She closes her eyes, savouring the peace and quiet.
She's startled from her dozing by a shout of pain, looking up in time to see a man stumble on the path in front of her and fall to the ground, clutching his chest. She jumps up from the bench and notices her doctor's bag clipped to the side of the pram. She reaches out to unclip it but is stopped by a familiar voice.
"You can't leave the baby, Stirling," it says.
She spins around, shocked to see Joe sitting in full uniform on the bench she has just left.
"But I think he's having a myocardial infarction," she says, pointing to the man lying on the path. "He needs my help."
"You have to take care of Mason," Joe says stubbornly.
"I'll take him with me," she says, struggling to disengage the brake on the pram. But it won't move. She tries to reach in and grab Mason but the hood is frozen in place, not providing enough room for her to reach her baby.
She looks over at the man, who has stopped moving but is still moaning. "I have to help him, he's going to die," she says to Joe, panic beginning to creep into her voice.
"You can't abandon the baby. He needs you."
Stirling is conflicted, unsure what to do. She looks at the pram and then looks back at the path. The man is gone. She stands in shock for a moment, staring at the empty spot by the path where he was lying just a moment ago.
"He's gone," she says, turning back toward the bench. Joe has disappeared too.
It must be hotter than I thought, she thinks. Now I'm hallucinating.
She sits back down on the bench, shaking slightly. She closes her eyes, trying to relax again, but is startled by a scream.
Behind her, a woman is struggling to reach her toddler, who has fallen in the stream. She is screaming for help.
Stirling rises from the bench, intent on going to her aid, when another voice stops her.
"You can't leave your baby, sis," Emily says, leaning against the trunk of the willow tree.
"But that woman's baby is drowning," she says, pointing at the stream, hysteria in her voice. "I can help her."
"Mason needs you more."
"But I won't be going far. He's asleep. I'll be able to see the pram easily from there."
She takes several steps toward the stream but stops as Mason begins to cry. She turns back to the pram and then looks at the woman, who has now turned toward her, screaming for help. Mason cries louder. Her stomach clenching with apprehension, Stirling races back to the pram, unable to listen to her baby cry for one second longer. She shoves back the hood and picks him up, holding his little body against hers, rocking him back and forth.
As she holds her baby, she looks down toward the stream and is surprised to see the woman and her toddler walking away hand-in-hand as if nothing happened. They are both laughing and giggling. Emily no longer leans against the willow.
Stirling sits down on the bench, cuddling Mason to her chest. His cries have quieted and his eyes have closed again; his little fists gripping her shirt; his head, covered in soft, black hair, nestled under her chin. She rocks him gently and hums softly, a feeling of peace enveloping her.
She hears fierce barking in the distance but ignores it. It comes closer, accompanied by the sound of a man yelling. She looks toward the zoo and notices a large dog running down the path, dragging its leash. A man runs behind it, yelling for it to come back.
As the dog races closer, barking and snarling, Mason begins to cry. Attracted by the noise, the dog veers toward the bench. Stirling immediately stands up, alarmed by the crazed look in the animal's eyes as it runs toward them. She reaches into her doctor's bag and grabs the familiar handle of a scalpel before stepping up onto the bench seat. She clutches Mason to her, turning slightly so he is protected by her body from the rushing dog. She can hear it panting and growling as it runs under the overhang of the willow tree.
"You have to protect the baby," she whispers to herself, bracing for the impact of the dog's attack. As it leaps toward her, she slashes with the scalpel, shocked as it yelps in pain and falls to the ground in front of the park bench. The creature lies there, panting, blood seeping from its neck.
Stirling turns away from the sight and hugs her baby, cooing and singing to him, trying to quiet his cries. She kisses his beautiful round head and rocks him back and forth, rubbing her hand gently against his back. Tears trickle down her face as she whispers: "I'll protect you. I'll never leave you. I won't abandon you."
Stirling gasps as her eyes open to blackness. Where am I? she wonders, panic rising in her throat. Where's my baby? She fights back the terror as she glances around in the darkness. She's lying in a bed. A man is sitting in a chair beside her, his head resting on the mattress, arms sprawled across her body, a hand lightly holding one of hers.
It's Joe, she realizes, suddenly remembering where she is and why. What is Joe still doing here?
She touches her belly, feeling the growing roundness. It was a dream, she realizes. But it was so vivid. She can still feel the warmth and softness of Mason's little body against her chest, how delicate his hair is tickling under her chin. It felt so real.
Stirling is still feeling disoriented as she slowly raises the back of the bed so she is sitting up. The pressure on her bladder is bordering on painful. She has to use the loo. She slowly shifts her body to the side of the bed opposite Joe, gently moving out from under his arms. She climbs slowly out of bed, but almost pulls her IV port out as she walks toward the washroom.
Damn, I forgot I was still attached, she thinks ruefully, walking back and dragging the IV pole with her. Once she's finished in the loo, she pushes the IV back to her bed and climbs up on the mattress and under the covers. She feels a tinge of sympathy as Joe slowly sits up, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry, Joe," she whispers, touching his arm. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"What time is it?" he asks, yawning and stretching his stiff body.
Stirling looks down as her watch closely in the dim light. "I think it's about three in the morning." She shifts over on the mattress. "Come, get into bed with me. You'll be more comfortable."
Without a word, Joe kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his duty belt, setting it on the back of the chair. He unbuttons his uniform shirt, making her lower belly heat up in anticipation as he pulls out of the sleeves, a white T-shirt underneath. She actually holds her breath as he unbuckles his belt, wondering if he's going to strip down to boxers. She feels a slight twinge of disappointment as he climbs into bed beside her with his uniform pants still on.
"For a minute there, I was thinking you were going to strip right down," she whispers as he settles in beside her, resting his head on half of her pillow. "Actually, I was hoping you were going to."
"Someone's feeling better," he says softly with a slight laugh, pulling her close to his chest. She snuggles against him, her arms wrapping around him. He does the same, resting her head on his right shoulder, snuggled under his chin.
"I've missed you," she whispers, rubbing her nose against his T-shirt, smelling his familiar scent.
"I've missed you too," he whispers, kissing her forehead. "I'm going to be staying for the next few days, until you're well enough to come home."
"But what about Sam and your mum?"
"They're just going to have to take care of themselves. I need you better and back home. And that's not going to happen if you ignore what the doctor tells you."
"I don't need a babysitter!" she says, struggling to sit up.
He holds her tightly against him. "Your behaviour up to now shows that you do. Dr. Edson suggested using restraints to keep you in your bed. Rather than see you handcuffed to the bed, which I admit has a certain appeal but not in a hospital, I volunteered to take care of you for the next few days."
Stirling giggles. "What a cliché! The police sergeant – the keeper of the handcuffs – is into bondage."
He feels her shake with laughter against him and he smiles. My Cheeky Tart is definitely feeling better, he thinks.
"Ssshhh," Joe whispers in her ear, rubbing his hands up and down her back. "It's time to go back to sleep."
She snuggles close to his chest and relaxes, closing her eyes. "I had this really strange dream and you were in it," she whispers.
"How strange?" he whispers back.
She smiles. "It wasn't that kind of dream. I was pushing Mason in a pram through Regent's Park, looking for a shady bench to rest on because it was such a sizzler."
"Regent's Park? In London?"
"Yes. I finally find one and I'm resting when this man has a heart attack right in front of me. I rush to help him but you suddenly appear and tell me I can't abandon the baby. Then this toddler falls in a stream and I want to rescue him but Emily tells me I can't leave Mason because he needs me. I walk toward the stream but the baby starts crying. I have to rush back to the pram because I can't bear to hear him cry. I hold him and cuddle him until he stops crying but this dog tries to attack us. I manage to stop the dog with a scalpel. As I'm comforting Mason, I tell him I'll protect him, I'll never leave him and I won't abandon him. And then I woke up."
"Hmmm," mutters Joe, half asleep.
"It felt so real," Stirling says. "It was like I could actually feel him against my body and in my arms."
Joe snores softly beside her. She smiles. Well, I've lost my audience, she thinks. She slowly takes her right arm from around Joe's body and settles it on her belly. "I'll protect you," she whispers, closing her eyes and relaxing in Joe's arms.
The next morning, she is awoken by a pleasant voice wishing her a Merry Christmas. She rolls over and is greeted by a ward steward who sets her breakfast tray on the moveable table beside her. She helps Stirling raise the back of her bed and fluffs her pillows.
"It's Christmas, love, so please give me a gift. Why don't you actually try this meal?" she suggests with a smile. "I'm tired of sending your trays back untouched. And you must be feeling hungry. That IV can't be very satisfying."
Stirling looks around the room. "Where's Joe?"
"The Sergeant? He's using the guest shower down the hall. And then he mentioned he was going to grab some breakfast."
Stirling nods her head. "Thanks."
"I'll be by later to pick up your tray and I want it to be empty," the steward says with mock severity as she leaves the room.
Stirling sighs and lifts the tray cover – oatmeal, a glass of milk, bran cereal, hot tea, a blueberry muffin. Her stomach grumbles. That muffin looks good, she thinks, reaching out for the sweet treat. She slowly breaks it apart into small pieces and eats them slowly, hypersensitive to how the food feels in her stomach. She adds milk and sugar to the tea and sips it slowly, periodically pulling faces at its bitter taste. She sprinkles a touch of demerara sugar over the oatmeal and slowly spoons it into her mouth, chasing each spoonful with a sip of tea. Finally, she pours the bran cereal into the provided bowl and pours the milk over it. She's slowly eating a spoonful when Joe walks through the door, clutching a brown take-out bag. He stops and stares in amazement as he watches Stirling eat. He quickly takes in the empty dishes and glasses on her tray.
"Merry Christmas, Cheeky," he says, leaning over and kissing her nose before sitting down in the chair beside her bed. "Finally feeling hungry?" She nods her head, her mouth full of food.
"Merry Christmas, Lover Boy," she says with a smile after she swallows. "I don't know what happened. I woke up and I was starving. I've been eating slowly though; I don't want to honk it back up."
Joe smiles as he watches her, a feeling of relief in his stomach. Now she just needs to keep it down, he thinks.
She has just finished her last bite of cereal and has set the bowl and spoon back on the tray when the steward returns. She too stares in disbelief at the tray, which contains only empty dishes.
Stirling leans back against the bed and stretches. "That feels good," she says, rubbing her stomach.
"Just relax and let the food settle," says Joe, removing the tray from her lap and handing it to the ward steward. He grabs her blankets and lifts them up her body, tucking them up under her chin. "Just close your eyes and relax."
Stirling smiles and sighs, her eyes closed, as Joe kisses her on the forehead. He sits back in his chair and watches her. It's only taken 60 hours but she's finally managed to eat something solid, he thinks. He opens his take out bag and pulls out his own breakfast, unwrapping an egg and bacon breakfast sarnie he bought in the hospital cafeteria.
As the smell wafts her way, Stirling opens her eyes, watching Joe take a bite. "Can I have a nibble?" she asks.
He arches his eyebrows at her as he chews. "You want a bite of my breakfast sarnie?"
"Yes," she says. "It smells amazing and I'm still a little bit hungry."
Joe takes another bite, watching her eyes follow his mouth. She licks her lips. "What are you going to do for me if I give you a bite?"
Stirling looks outraged. "What is this, blackmail? Why can't you let me have a bite because it's Christmas, you love me and we're getting married in 11 days?"
Joe thinks for a moment as he chews and shakes his head. "Not enough," he says, smiling and taking another bite. "This is a really good sarnie. I can't just give away a bite based on sentiment. I need something in return."
Stirling glares as she watches him eat. Less than half is left. "What do you want? Name your price."
Joe smiles victoriously. "I want you to promise me that you will stay in this bed for the next two days – without complaining or whining – only getting up to use the loo or have a shower."
"That's a lot to ask in return for one bite of a sarnie," she says, watching him take another. "If there's even one bite left."
"Good thing I bought another one," Joe says, pulling another wrapper out of the bag. Stirling's eyes light up. "You can have the whole thing if you promise me what I ask."
He waves the wrapper in front of her face, the smell driving her insane. "Deal," she finally says, reaching out for the sarnie, which he reluctantly gives her. "Eat it slowly," he says, watching her rip off the wrapper and take a bite. She closes her eyes and chews, blissful noises coming from her throat.
"Zhith ith tho gude," she mumbles.
Joe laughs. "Don't talk with your mouth full. Sometimes you display the manners of a spotty-faced police cadet."
Stirling blushes as she swallows. "I'm sorry, it's just I'm so hungry."
"I'm glad," he says, grinning as she takes another bite.
Dr. Edson stops in shock as she enters the room on her morning rounds, watching Stirling chewing. "Is that actual solid food in your hand, Dr. Aylesworth?" she asks, amazed. "And are you actually putting it in your mouth and chewing it?"
"Yeth!" Stirling says with a full mouth, making Joe cringe.
The doctor picks the chart up from the end of her bed and examines the notes. "It's a Christmas miracle. It says here you ate all of your breakfast as well. How's your stomach feeling?"
"Empty. I woke up this morning really hungry. I haven't felt this way in a while. So far, my stomach is cooperating."
"Let's not push it," says Dr. Edson. "I'm going to have a technician come in and take some more blood samples and see where your levels are. Your colouring is much better than yesterday afternoon. After you're finished that sandwich, nothing more to eat until lunch. Your stomach may feel fine now but we'll see how it handles the food after its started being digested. Meanwhile – bed rest!"
"Yes, Dr. Edson," Stirling manages to choke out, fighting back the urge to stick her tongue out at the obstetrician or make a rude gesture.
"I'll be back after lunch to check on you again. I should have the test results by then. Merry Christmas," she adds as she walks out the door.
Joe digs in his paper bag and pulls out a fruit cup and plastic spoon. As he peels off the container's plastic lid, Stirling watches, chewing slowly. "Is that diced fruit?" she asks after she swallows down her bite.
Joe nods, putting a spoonful in his mouth. She watches him chew, still holding half her sarnie in her hand. "Is there any pineapple pieces in there?"
He nods his head, still chewing.
"I'll give you a bite of my sarnie if I can have a few pieces of pineapple."
He laughs, trying hard not to choke. "As much as I'm enjoying all this food bartering, I'll let you have some pineapple for free." He manages to scoop up a couple of pieces on the spoon and feeds them to her.
She closes her eyes and enjoys the tropical sweet taste. "Yum!"
Joe leans back in his chair and grins as he watches Stirling slowly devour her sarnie and then proceed to lick her fingers clean. "That was bloody delicious!" she says, rising from the bed.
"Where are you going?" he asks suspiciously, scraping the last of his fruit cup onto the spoon.
She stops and smiles saucily at him as she pulls her IV pole away from her bed. "To use the loo. I believe that was on the list of acceptable activities I can partake in."
"Yes, it is," he says with a nod, putting the last spoonful of fruit in his mouth.
Stirling digs through her suitcase and picks out a clean sports bra, knickers, T-shirt and shorts before heading into the loo. Ten minutes later, she's out with neatly brushed hair pulled back in a ponytail, sparkling teeth, clean face and fresh clothing. Her new T-shirt reads: I Listen to the Voices in My Stethoscope.
After parking the IV pole beside her bed, she climbs back into her hospital bed, sits cross-legged in the middle and looks expectantly at Joe. "So, what are we going to do today?"
"Well, at this moment, I'm going to take some blood samples," answers a young nurse from the doorway, startling Stirling. She sets up her equipment beside the bed and is soon filling vial after vial with blood. Five minutes later, she's finished and Stirling has another plaster to add to her collection.
"Now, where were we?" asks Stirling after the nurse hurries away with the samples. "Oh yes, what are we going to do today?"
Joe looks a bit lost. "What do you want to do?"
"Do you know how to play backgammon?" Joe shakes his head. "How about chess?" He shakes his head, much to her disgust. "Cribbage?" He shakes his head. "Brag?" He shakes his head. "Euchre?" He shakes his head. "You grew up in Cornwall and you don't know how to play euchre?" He nods his head.
Stirling sighs in frustration. "Two player canasta?" He shakes his head. "Black jack or crazy eights?" He shakes his head.
"Shithead?" Joe pauses. "I take it that's a card game and not a description of me?" he asks. Stirling laughs. "Yes!" He shakes his head.
She's losing her patience. "Go fish?" He gives her a look of disgust. "Of course I know how to fish! I grew up in Cornwall. But I'm not sure how we're going to be able to do that in a hospital room." Now it's her turn to give him a look of disgust. "It's a card game," she says. He shakes his head.
"Snap? Which is what I'm about to do!" she gripes. Joe thinks for a moment and nods his head. "I remember that one. Sam and I used to play that when we were ankle biters. We also used to play something called war."
"Aces!" Stirling shouts, raising her arms above her head in victory. "We've finally found something you know how to play! Now we need a deck of cards."
He looks at her, slightly shocked. "You went through that list of games and you don't have a deck of cards?" She nods her head. He sighs, standing up from his chair. "I guess I'll try to find some cards. And maybe something else to entertain you."
He leans over and gives her a kiss before walking out of the room on his search.
She leans back against her bed and reaches for one of her medical magazines piled on the bedside table. As she flips through the pages, she stifles a yawn. "I hate bed rest!" she shouts at the walls of her room. "I'm bored rigid!"
"Are you 'kay?" asks a voice from the doorway.
Stirling turns her head and is surprised to see a petite blonde woman standing just outside her room in the hallway. She is heavily pregnant, actually extremely huge, and she is gripping her IV pole like it's a walking stick.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" Stirling says, blushing in embarrassment. "I didn't mean to startle you. I forgot the door was open. I thought he – Joe – my fiance – I thought he closed it when he left."
"You mean the police constable?" the woman asks, pointing down the hall, obviously in the direction he must have walked.
"Sergeant," Stirling corrects automatically.
"He's with you?" the woman asks, coming into her room. "Aren't you a jammy bitch! He's rather bang-tidy."
Stirling raises her eyebrows, not quite sure how to respond to that kind of sexually charged compliment about her Joe, especially from such a heavily pregnant woman. "Hands off, he's mine!" she says with a laugh.
The woman looks at her for a moment and then laughs as well. "I'm Sondra," she says, giving a little wave.
"Stirling."
"So what are you in for, Stirling?" Sondra asks, looking her up and down. "You don't look pregnant."
"Hyperemesis gravidarum," Stirling says, "which is actually a fancy way of saying severe nausea related to pregnancy. I'm almost 17 weeks."
Sondra gives her a surprised look. "You should have seen me at 17 weeks. I needed to wear a support belt to hold up my stomach. You barely have a belly at all!"
Stirling gives her a look. "Well, based on what I'm observing, you're either two or three weeks past term, which no obstetrician would allow, or you're about 35 weeks carrying twins or 30 weeks carrying triplets." She glances at the IV pole. "And they're inducing you."
Sondra looks at her in disbelief. "Thirty weeks carrying triplets. How did you know that just by looking at me?"
"No offence but you're huge, much larger than a woman of your size and build should be at full-term. So I surmise you are carrying multiples. Based on your size, I'm pretty certain there are more than two."
Sondra laughs. "You sound like Sherlock Holmes. Or a doctor."
"I am a doctor; a GP. You should have a seat," she adds, referring to one of the guest chairs. "Rest your feet."
Sondra gratefully flops into the chair closest to her. "So doctors end up locked up in hospitals as patients at Christmas time, too. For some strange reason, that makes me feel better."
Stirling smiles. "What did you think? That we have some exclusive club in southern Spain we go to when we are ill? Despite how we might act at times, we are human. We get ill, we develop diseases, catch bacterial infections, get pregnant and have babies, just like everyone else. I'll tell you one thing though, we make terrible patients; at least I do."
"You must have been the woman they were searching all over for yesterday."
Stirling laughs. "I see my reputation has proceeded me. I'm not adapting well to bed rest, thus explaining the police presence. If I don't do as I'm told, it's shackles next."
Sondra looks at her wide-eyed. "You're pissing around!"
"No, she's not," says Joe, walking through the door, carrying an armful of boxes, which he sets on the end of the bed. "She's under strict orders not to leave her bed. She hasn't been wandering the halls again, has she?" he asks, looking at Sondra.
"No Officer," she says from her chair, smiling and biting her bottom lip. "But she has been shouting at her walls."
Joe turns and gives Stirling a strange look. "I was feeling a little stir crazy after you left," she explains. "Anyway, Sondra, this is Joe. Joe, this is Sondra."
Joe shakes hands with Sondra, looking down at her stomach. "Wow, you're huge!" he says, his eyes widening.
"He's a real charmer, isn't he?" Sondra says to Stirling, laughing. "A pleasure to meet you, Joe," she adds in a husky-sounding voice.
"Sondra is expecting triplets and, based on the level of her IV drip of pitocin, should be experiencing contractions soon. I'm sure your doctor or midwife has already performed several membrane sweeps and broke your waters. Isn't someone supposed to be monitoring you?"
Joe suddenly looks alarmed by this news and no sooner has Stirling asked the question than a young nurse jogging by glances in the room, stops and rushes in.
"Mrs. Clarke, there you are," the nurse says. "I've been looking everywhere for you. We need to give you another internal exam and see how things are progressing."
She helps pull Sondra to her feet and begins leading her out the door, pushing her IV pole beside her.
"Good luck, Sondra," Stirling calls as the pair leaves the room.
"I wonder if the nurse needs any help?" Joe considers, beginning to walk toward the door.
"No!" Stirling says sharply, a bit sharper than she actually means to.
Joe looks back at her, giving her a curious look. "Why not?" he asks, walking toward the bed.
She wiggles her finger at him, asking him to bend over closer. She puts her arms around his shoulders, pulling him even lower until their foreheads practically touch. "I don't trust Sondra around you," she whispers. "I'm afraid I'm somewhat of a jealous type."
"You're talking about the woman pregnant with triplets, right?" he whispers back. "You don't have anything to worry about."
"I think you're underestimating the situation. She is lusting after you. One of the first things she said to me was how 'bang-tidy' you looked."
Joe arches his eyebrows at Stirling. "Bang-tidy?" he asks. She nods her head. He's silent for a moment. "Do you think I look bang-tidy?" he asks her. She nods her head. He's silent as he thinks about this. "And what exactly does that mean?" She pulls his head down further and whispers in his ear. He pulls back from her in surprise. "Really?" he asks, a hint of doubt in his voice. She nods her head. "And you agree with her?" Stirling gives him an "Are you joking?" kind-of look, nodding at the same time.
"Well," he says, climbing into the bed beside her, kicking off his shoes, "Merry Christmas to me!" He pulls her close against his body and kisses her passionately, a bit more passionately than one would expect in a hospital room with the door wide open. Not that Stirling is paying any attention to that detail as she feels Joe's hand move up the front of her baggy T-shirt. She's concentrating more on the kissing and the touching and the kissing. She's becoming rather aroused when a loud voice cuts straight through the mood.
"So this is what you're doing while your brother and I sit alone on Christmas morning in a strange house in a strange village," a female voice snarls, heavy with criticism. "I could have enjoyed a better Christmas at home, by myself."
Both Stirling and Joe open their eyes and look at one another, their lips still pressed together. He slowly pulls his lips away from hers, closes his eyes in abject horror, bows his head and leans his forehead on her chest. "Oh shit!" he whispers.
"Oh shit!" a male voice echoes, sounding a lot like Sam. "I think we should just shut the door and go back to Portwenn, Mum."
"No, we came all this way for a visit. We're going to have a visit."
Joe and Stirling are scrambling to untangle themselves from one another and sit upright in the bed when she hears a familiar voice echoing down the hall. "I think it's this room right here," a female voice says and Emily marches in, followed closely by Robert, Richard and Roberta.
"Oh!" Emily says, taking in the situation in one glance. "Children, wait outside."
"No way!" says Roberta, laughing. "This looks interesting!"
"Roberta! Richard!" Emily says sharply.
"You're no fun!" Roberta says glumly, giving her mother a dirty look. "Aces, Aunt Stirling! Aces!" she adds, giving her aunt two thumbs up as she walks into the hall.
"Only Aunt Stirling could get a booty call while in the hospital," Richard says, backing out the door with a smile on his face.
Emily shuts the door, glaring at Stirling and Joe before glancing curiously over at Sam and his mother. "Hiya," she says. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," says Sam, reaching out to shake her hand. "I'm Sam Penhale, Joe's older brother. This is our mum, Edna."
"Nice to meet you Sam, Edna. I'm Emily Muncie, Stirling's older sister. This is my husband, Sergeant Robert Muncie. And those two hooligans outside are our children, Roberta and Richard."
There's much hand shaking and introductions all around. During that time, Joe and Stirling manage to sort themselves out, Joe jumping out of the bed and offering his mother a place to sit. She sniffs her disapproval as she settles into the chair beside the hospital bed.
Joe puts his shoes back on as Emily opens the door for Roberta and Richard, who immediately rush in, big grins still on their faces.
"Mum," Joe says nervously, unsure what's going to happen next. "I'd like you to meet my fiance, Stirling. Stirling, this is my mum, Edna Penhale."
Stirling smiles and offers her hand to the sour-faced, grey-haired lady. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Edna."
The sharp-eyed woman stares at her, any sign of a smile absent from her face. She looks her up and down as Stirling leans out from the bed, her hand extended. As the seconds tick by, she brings her hand in, realizing no greeting will be occurring. Her smile never wavers.
Sam shakes his head in disgust, glancing at Joe who just looks sickly with nerves.
"You look pretty healthy for someone who has been admitted to the hospital, especially when you're rolling around in bed with my son."
"I'm feeling much better today, thank you," Stirling says, unperturbed. "I've managed to get my appetite back and eat some solid food. So far, it's agreeing with my stomach. Hopefully, if this keeps up, I'll be able to go home soon."
"That's wonderful," says Emily, smiling with relief.
Edna looks at Stirling's baggy shirt and workout shorts. "From the look of your stomach, you might have benefited from a few more days without an appetite. You must be worried about fitting into your wedding dress."
Joe closes his eyes and pales even more. What a disaster! he thinks.
"Mum," Sam says, an edge to his voice. "If you keep this up, I'll take you home. I mean it."
Emily gasps in horror, turning red with indignation, while poor Robert doesn't know what to do, having never actually met anyone quite so rude.
Internally, Stirling is a bit shaken, hurt by the comment. But she'd rather die then let that woman see what effect her words have had. "I'm afraid Cornish food has proven to be a weakness with me. And your Joe is such an amazing cook. He's actually made me some of the meals he learned from you. And, I hope you don't mind, he's also taught me how to prepare some of them."
Edna looks at the pale, lightly freckled, auburn-haired girl and feels a small flicker of respect for her. She searches her face for any weakness, any doubt, the slightest hint of a loss of self-confidence, but can see none. She's either incredibly stupid or impressively intelligent with a healthy dose of self-respect. At first, the fact she is planning to marry her Joe had Edna leaning toward stupid, but the more time she spends with her, the more she realizes she's wrong. She's nothing like the other girl, the temperamental, moody one. This Stirling girl is very intelligent, crafty and has amazing self-control. She is a worthy adversary. So what is she doing with Joe? Edna wonders, completely baffled.
"You taught Stirling how to cook?" Emily says to Joe with a trace of amazement in her voice. "You're a brave man."
He feels a twinge of annoyance at Emily's tone, the way she can so easily dismiss any accomplishment her sister achieves. "Stirling is an amazing cook," he says defensively, causing his mother to look at him with a hint of surprise. "She caught on right away. She wasn't difficult to teach at all."
The puppy has discovered his bark, his mother thinks, mentally measuring her youngest son. Perhaps this Stirling girl has had more of an affect on him than I originally thought.
"I just needed the right instructor," Stirling says, smiling at Joe.
Sam watches this exchange and feels a surge of gut wrenching jealousy toward his brother. It's easy to see he is arse over tip in love with her and she is crazy about him. But why! he mentally screams. I found her. I saw her first. I chatted her up for more than a month! Joe comes to visit and within two hours of entering the bar, she's snogging with him! I did all the groundwork! Damn jammy bastard! And then she shows up a month or so later in the village where Joe lives and she's a bloody doctor! Sam suddenly has an overwhelming urge to find a pub and get completely arseholed.
"So my Joey's a good cook, is he?" Edna says, eying him. "That's a quality I never saw when he lived at home. Of course, necessity is a great motivator and he has been alone for several years now since his first wife left him. Did he tell you about her?"
"Yes, he did," says Stirling, completely relaxed but ready for anything. She glances over at Joe, who looks incredibly pale and sickly as he watches his mother, looking very much like a scared rabbit about to be pounced on by a fox.
"Joey has always had terrible taste in women, haven't you boy? I warned him about that one but he never did listen. And look where he ended up, left for another man, kicked out of his own apartment. She said he was boring, spineless and lacked ambition, isn't that what she told you son?"
Emily and Robert watch in silent disbelief as Edna weaves her evil web of words, carefully and painstakingly undermining the confidence of Joe. Roberta and Richard are petrified to be anywhere near the apparently psycho woman while Sam is enraged by the indirect insults his mother keeps tossing at Stirling, disgusted that Joe hasn't immediately jump to her defence.
About the last thing Stirling is worried about is being insulted by Joe's mother. She's far too concerned with the mental torture the old woman is inflicting on her youngest son, who continues to stand there and take her abuse. For Stirling, it's like watching someone kick a cowering dog who has been abused so many times, it just doesn't have the spirit to fight back. It angers her that Edna has the power to do this to Joe, that he doesn't defend himself or walk away, that Sam doesn't stand up for his younger brother. It also reminds her of the destructive relationship she had with Spencer, how easy it is to feel worthless based on the words of someone you love. He warned me, she thinks, recalling the night at the tapas restaurant in Bodmin when they discussed their respective families. But I had no idea it was this dysfunctional. Or that she was such a horrible old hag. No wonder he avoids her.
"I'm concerned that if you two marry, there may be children," Edna says. "I've always been relieved Joe and his slag of an ex-wife never had offspring." She heaves a heavy, sad sigh. "Of course, it meant that I never had the joy of being a grandmother but it's been for the best. I wouldn't want children to be subjected to that kind of life – having a weak and ineffectual police constable for a father …"
"He's a police sergeant, you nasty, evil, bitter bitch," Stirling says, her voice like steel. "Why can't you bloody well get it right? And what did you call him? Weak? Ineffectual? You haven't a bleeding clue what your son is really like, what kind of man he is, what kind of father he will be. How could you? You probably haven't spent more than 10 hours in his presence in the past 20 years. But still you sit here and pick on him, insult him, verbally abuse him. Does it make you feel better about your sick, twisted, pathetic life?"
Stirling is so angry, she's physically shaking, which is unfortunately affecting her stomach. She can feel it clench and roll, bile rising in the back of her throat, but she does her best to ignore it, focusing all of her energy on the evil that is Edna Penhale.
"You say you're worried there will be children if we get married? Start worrying Edna because I hope there will be at least half a dozen who will know the happiness and joy of growing up with a mother and a father who actually love and cherish them. And don't worry, you won't have the opportunity to be anywhere near them, I'll make sure of that. You won't be able to poison them with your vile thoughts and words."
"I'm not sure what happened in your life to make you the psycho bitch that you are today. And I really don't care. I'm just glad that your heinous and malevolent behaviour up to now hasn't managed to destroy the most lovely, beautiful and honourable man I have ever met. You might have had free rein to spread your destructive words but I'm cutting you off. You stay the hell away from Joe and from me. And that includes our wedding."
The room is completely silent as Stirling's tirade comes to an end. Edna stares at her wide-eyed and shocked. "You can't do this," she whispers.
"Watch me!" says Stirling, turning to Sam. "Can you please escort your mother out of this room and take her back to her own home. We'll arrange to have her luggage and belongings sent back to her in the next few days. Sam, you are welcome to stay with us as long as you wish. I just can't have your mother around belittling the man that I love."
Sam looks at her soberly, shamed by her fortitude and courage. "It's time to go, Mum. You've definitely overstayed your welcome this time." He gently takes Edna's arm and helps her from the chair.
She stares at Stirling in disbelief and then turns to look at Joe. "Joey, she can't do this," she says in a pleading voice. "Don't let her come between us."
Joe has been silent throughout his mother's criticism and Stirling's admonishment of her behavior. His face is still very pale, his eyes sad. Stirling sits on the edge of the bed and reaches out to him, grasping his right hand. He moves closer to her, his body touching hers. She wraps her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his side. She feels his hand caress the side of her face.
"Goodbye Mum," he says quietly as his brother practically drags the old lady out of the room, her voice still calling out to Joe and arguing with Sam.
Emily and Robert both heave a sigh, reaching out to touch their two children. They all look pale and exhausted, as if they have lived through a war. "I think we should head back to Portwenn," Emily says quietly. "We'll be by to see you tomorrow Stirling, Joe."
She gives them each a hug and a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door, Robert, Richard and Roberta in tow.
Joe and Stirling sit side-by-side on the edge of the hospital bed quietly, holding hands. They sit in companionable silence for several minutes. "I'm sorry, Joe," she says, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I know she's your mother but I just couldn't listen to her run you down anymore without saying something."
He sits quietly a little longer, gently tracing patterns on the back of her hand. "You are the most lovely, beautiful and honourable woman I have ever met," he says, turning and kissing her. It starts out as a gentle kiss but soon because more heated and passionate. Stirling finds herself lying on the bed, Joe's body partially over her, their hands stroking each other's body.
He pulls back for a moment. "Do you really want to have half a dozen children?" he asks, stroking her cheek. She blushes. "I don't know," she admits. "I never gave it a lot of thought."
"I just wanted you to know that it sounds like a lot of work but I'm up for it," he says.
She laughs. "Are you now?" He smiles. "Always."
They return to kissing and touching.
She touches his cheek, stopping the snogging session for a moment. "I want to have a shower," she whispers. "Now?" he asks. She nods her head. "With you," she adds.
He slowly smiles at her and glances at his watch. "It's almost lunch. Do you want to go now or wait until after?"
"Now," she says, kissing him gently. "Lunch can wait. I'm hungry for you."
He tenderly pulls her up from the bed until she's standing on her own two feet. She carefully disconnects her IV tube from the needle in her hand and tapes the section down with copious amounts of clear adhesive tape. When she's sure it's well sealed from moisture, she takes Joe's hand and they walk down the hall to the guest shower area.
He leads her through the doorway into the large shower cubicle, his lips fiercely seeking hers, as he shuts the door and locks it behind them.