For the Mercy Street Holiday 2016 Prompt Challenge on Tumblr: "Christmas Traditions" (Dec 20)
He really ought to have been paying more attention to Major Summers – and under any other circumstances, it wouldn't have been that much of a problem. But his eyes kept involuntarily darting across the room, catching glimpses of her in animated conversation with Dr. Diggs.
Whatever they were discussing appeared to be quite interesting – far more interesting than what the major was going on about – and he could see her face light up as she spoke, her wide, expressive eyes glimmering with curiosity, although some of that could possibly be attributed to the half-filled plastic cup of Chardonnay in her hand. Her hair was down, flowing in soft chestnut waves over her shoulders, a far cry from how she normally had it, up in a ponytail or rolled into a slick bun.
It was her mouth, though, that he couldn't keep himself from staring at, the rounded bow shape of it, flushed pink like the inner curve of a shell. God, had he really almost kissed her?
He was glad, in a way, for the intervention of Hale – although this was probably the only time he would ever make such an admission – if only for keeping them both from doing something they would no doubt later regret. Although, he found it strangely difficult, in this moment at least, to imagine what that regret might feel like, as he watched her lips broaden into a smile as she laughed at something Dr. Diggs was saying.
"So what do you think, Dr. Foster?"
Jed blinked and quickly turned his gaze back towards Major Summers.
"I'm sorry, sir… About what, exactly?"
"Your contract." The major let out a weary sigh. "I know you're due up at the end of January, but the Major General and I are in agreement that we'd like to see you stay on for another two years, if you're interested. You've been a great asset to this hospital."
"Thank you, sir," Jed replied.
It was strange to think he was almost to January, a month that had loomed so large in his mind for so long. Look, we just need to wait until January, he had told her, again and again, until the words had turned all but hollow. In January, I'll be done, and then we can start thinking about moving to the West Coast.
It turned out she couldn't wait until January. By July, she had given him an ultimatum, and when he had no answer for her, she had coolly packed her things into boxes and then mailed him a check for half the Kelley Blue Book value of the car.
And now here he was, almost to January. And he was free to do whatever he liked.
"I wonder, Major, if I could have a few days to think about it?" he said. "Just until after the holiday. Two years is a long time," he added.
The major made a pleased-sounding chortle as he tapped Jed on the arm. "Not at my age, son."
Turning his gaze from Jed, the major looked out over the crowded conference room, which had been commandeered for their annual staff holiday party. It was a sizable turnout, small groups of doctors and nurses circled in lively conversation, many with small plates of hors d'oeuvres and cups of beer or wine in their hands. The overhead lights had been dimmed slightly, with white Christmas lights and banners of cutout snowflakes running the lengths of the room, no doubt the work of Nurse Green, Jed supposed, and whatever party planning committee she had put herself in charge of.
"It's a nice tradition, don't you think?" the major asked.
"It is, sir," Jed replied. "Although, I have to tell you, I'm more inclined towards the older traditions than the more recent ones." He glimpsed down at his sweater, just to be sure the major didn't miss his point.
A deep laugh rumbled through the major's throat. "Not as dignified as Army Greens, it's true," he said, as he clasped Jed's shoulder, "but youth must have its fling, as they say."
Jed smiled and nodded politely, hard-pressed to remember a time he had ever felt less dignified. But perhaps the fact that they were all in the same boat – strong-armed by Nurse Green (and whatever mysterious power her Southern charm had over the major) into wearing their most obnoxious Christmas sweaters, all as part of a brand-new holiday party tradition – made it slightly more tolerable.
For his part, the major's sweater was dominated by a plaid appliqué Christmas tree, stretching all the way across his torso, felt ornaments decorating its stylized branches and presents with embroidered ribbon nestled at its base. In the face of such a fabricated marvel, Jed could only feel slightly ashamed at his own offering, which featured nearly a dozen slightly maniacal-looking elves jumping out of gift boxes.
"If you'll excuse me, doctor, I should go make my rounds," the major said. "Enjoy the party. And as soon as you've made up your mind… well, you'll let us know, won't you?"
"Of course," Jed answered, giving the major a quick nod.
He did try to enjoy the party, did his best to make light-hearted conversation with his colleagues, asking about everyone's families and their travel plans, but some small part of his brain was always vaguely aware of where she was and who she was talking to.
It wasn't that he was avoiding her – that wasn't it, not really – but he realized he was slightly nervous about talking to her, nervous in a way he hadn't been for quite some time.
But the room wasn't that big, and she found him eventually, standing near the drinks table where he had just finished refilling his sparkling apple cider.
She gave him a warm, familiar smile as she stepped closer. Was it just his imagination or did she smell different, like something soft and floral and decidedly non-antiseptic?
"Impressive," she said, nodding her head in the direction of his sweater.
"Yes, well, my mother, I'm sure, would be immensely proud."
That, of course, was a ridiculous statement, as he doubted his mother had ever been proud of him a day in his life. She hadn't been proud of him when he got into Columbia, she hadn't been proud of the 526 he got on the MCAT, and she certainly wasn't proud of the fact that he had taken this contract job with the Army, rather than staying on at Johns Hopkins and angling for chief of neurosurgery.
Pulling himself from that depressing thought, he realized it was his turn to acknowledge her sweater.
"You brought that all the way from Boston?" he asked. Although, now that he had a proper chance to look at it, it didn't look all that terrible. Granted, the dizzying, oversized rows of stars, snowflakes, trees, holly, Christmas stockings, and reindeer running all around the center wasn't exactly easy on the eyes, but somehow it only seemed to add to her appeal.
"Borrowed, I'm afraid," she said, with a tiny shrug of her shoulders. "From Nurse Green's sister."
"Too bad. I'd like to think of your wardrobe as being full of surprises," he said, and then stopped himself, all at once realizing how that must have sounded to her. He glanced back towards the crowded room, hoping to quickly find something else to talk about, something that might distract her from what he had just said. Luckily, he found just the thing he was looking for, holding forth with a few of the other orthopedists as a knitted Santa suit-clad polar bear skied straight down the center of his chest.
"Do you think anyone told Hale that the sweaters were supposed to be worn ironically?" he said. "I secretly suspect he just wore his just for fun."
That, at least, earned him a little laugh, her cheeks rounding with it as she momentarily glanced away.
"So are you headed back north for the holiday?" he asked.
"I've got a flight on Christmas Eve," she answered. "What about you? Are you going to Baltimore?"
If he was surprised – and a little intrigued – that she had somehow learned where he was from, he tried not to let it show.
"Just for the day. My brother and his family are staying in the house, and wherever they are tends to get rather… loud."
There was more to it than that, of course. Ez by himself he could handle. It was the combination of Ez and his wife and the twins – and his mother – that turned the whole thing into a chaotic, drama-filled nightmare. And God forbid his mother learn about the divorce papers; they were barely on speaking terms after she found out about the separation.
"So you think children should be seen and not heard?" she asked, her wide, brown eyes glinting in the light.
He grinned. "I think they should they should avoid re-enacting scenes from Kung Fu Panda at ungodly hours of the morning while I'm still trying to sleep."
She smiled back at him and once again, like that moment in the snow, he was lost: lost in the inviting depths of her eyes, lost in the curve of her chin, lost in that strangely perfect mouth. And slowly permeating his consciousness was the notion that he might not mind it at all, never being found.
"Oh my goodness, Dr. Foster and Nurse Phinney, just look at y'all!" The voice – with its distinct musical drawl – was coming from nearby, and as he turned his head, he soon realized that it had emerged from Nurse Green, looking much more delighted than she had any real reason to be. "Don't you see where y'all are standin'? Right under the mistletoe!"
Jed glanced up in horror, taking in the small bundle of green leaves hanging a few feet above his head, and then desperately trying to figure out what might have possessed someone to include such an item as part of their decorating scheme, especially when the event would involve workplace colleagues.
"Oh, c'mon, it's tradition!" she exclaimed sweetly, drawing the attention of several others, including Dr. Diggs and Dr. Hale, who were standing just a few paces away.
He froze; the woman didn't honestly expect him to kiss Nurse Phinney right here, in front of everyone, did she? Of course she did, he realized, and so did everyone else, waiting there and staring expectantly at the two of them.
The moment stretched on interminably, without any solution in sight, and just as Jed was seriously considering making a break for the door, he felt something touch his cheek, light and soft as a whisper. It was followed by the slightest hint of pressure, the heat of her barely parted mouth like a tiny, gentle flame against his skin. And then it was gone, so quickly, like it had never been there at all.
A collegial cheer came forth from the assembled onlookers, and as they began to swivel back towards their conversations, Jed dumbly glanced over at her, for once not knowing what to say, realizing that he was firmly cementing his status as the stupidest man in the world.
There was something in her eyes he couldn't figure out – happiness? sadness? disappointment? hope? – and even with the overwhelming compulsion to take her face in his hands and kiss her properly, the way she deserved, he knew in his heart he couldn't do it.
"Merry Christmas, Dr. Foster," she said, a soft, slightly embarrassed smile playing on her lips. She raised her half-cup of wine and extended it a little towards him, a peacemaking gesture now only waiting for his reply.
"Merry Christmas, Nurse Phinney," he repeated, gently tapping his cup against hers. He hoped the words were enough, enough to say all the things he couldn't, all the unexpected feelings lodged deep in his chest, all the things he didn't dare voice.