The Army Doctor's Forever Baby (Army Doctor's Baby Series Prequel) Read online

  Chapter Nine

  George reached the top of the hill and stared through his goggles at the snowy vista spread before him like something off a Christmas card. Pine trees poked up through the thick white drifts, while smoke spiraled from the chimneys of a cluster of painted wooden cottages in the valley below.

  A group of marines along with three doctors and two medical technicians had been skiing across country for the last three days. It had taken George a few hours to get used to skiing with a medical pack on his back that raised his center of gravity and threw him off-balance. And the weight of his pack was nothing compared to the heavy backpacks the marines carried.

  George had learned to ski at his friend Robert's Scottish estate during school vacations, and honed his skill at winter resorts all over Europe. He liked to think he was fairly competent on skis. The other doctors and medics in the group were all managing except for one navy doctor who wasn't coping well. He lacked confidence, and he wouldn't like this next downhill run. It was the steepest yet.

  Glancing over his shoulder, George waited for the others to sidestep their skis up the steep hill and catch up.

  As always when he relaxed, his thoughts turned to Sandra. About now, she'd be coming to the end of her morning clinic. He remembered sitting at the table in the cafeteria, waiting for her, his pleasure as she walked in and smiled at him.

  A burst of longing tightened his chest and he had to consciously suck in a breath. He touched the pocket where he kept her picture. It was only two weeks until he went home, two weeks until he saw her face and held her in his arms. He couldn't wait.

  The sergeant in charge of the exercise pushed up his goggles and muttered something uncomplimentary about useless doctors, snapping George's thoughts back to the present.

  As a noncombatant, George's rank did not give him the right to issue orders to anyone except other medics. It meant that on exercises like this, he was under the command of a soldier of lesser rank. But he was not going to ignore a direct insult to the medical professionals who chose to serve their country. "I know you commandos think you're invincible, but one day you might end up on my operating table. I suggest you bear that in mind, Sergeant."

  "I didn't mean you," the man snapped. "I meant him." The sergeant cast a withering glance down the hill and bellowed, "Keep up, Lieutenant Bennett. We're falling behind schedule." The navy doctor was last again, his clothes and medical backpack covered in snow from where he'd fallen so many times. He should never have been sent on this training exercise.

  As the poor man neared the crest of the hill, George sidestepped down a couple of feet, stretched out a hand, and hauled the exhausted lieutenant to the top. Bennett leaned against a tree, breathing heavily.

  "We're three klicks from the pickup point." The sergeant pointed his ski pole at a helicopter waiting in the valley below. "It's all downhill from here and we need to make up time. So no dawdling." He pushed off, quickly picking up speed down the steep incline.

  George shook his head. In his opinion, the sergeant should make sure everyone reached the bottom safely, especially when he knew he had a weak skier on the exercise.

  The marines all slid over the edge and followed. The other medics waited for a few minutes, but George signaled for them to go. There was no point in all of them incurring the sergeant's wrath.

  Bennett blew out a breath and sagged beneath the weight of his pack. "Thanks for waiting, Knight. This is pure torture."

  "It's tough if you're not a strong skier."

  "You can say that again. I hate skiing. I hate snow." Bennett laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound.

  "Don't follow their tracks." George raised a ski pole and indicated a gentler incline. It was a longer route down, but slower and safer. "See the natural terracing between those rocks. You can maintain more control. The only steep section is the last hundred yards."

  "Great. Thanks. I'll go that way. The sarge can shout at me all he likes. I don't care as long as I get back in one piece."

  George chuckled and slapped him on the back. "I'll follow you down."

  Bennett pushed off, wobbly and uncertain, frequently slipping over as he turned. A couple of times, George pulled up at his side and helped him to his feet. In the distance, he could see the rest of the group gathered at the pickup point, waiting.

  Bennett pulled up at the top of the final steep slope and dropped down in the snow, resting back on his pack, gasping. "Just need a few minutes to catch my breath."

  George leaned on his ski poles, surveying the fall line. The tracks the others had made scored the pristine white snow, the narrow route bordered by icy rocks on one side and a dense stand of pine trees on the other.

  After about ten minutes, Bennett stood with a sigh. "Can't put this off forever."

  The sergeant was gesturing furiously at them to hurry up.

  "Rocks on the left, trees on the right," George said, making certain the man was clear where the danger lay. It should be obvious, but the navy doctor was so exhausted he probably wasn't thinking clearly.

  Bennett pushed off, zigzagging to and fro down the narrow, steep incline. George followed, checking his speed, watching with an impending sense of disaster as Bennett lost control, smacking into a huge bank of snow beneath the pine trees.

  George shot over, unclipped his ski bindings, upended his skis so they didn't slide away, and dug through the loose snow to find Bennett.

  The man had hit a tree. He was unconscious, his nose bloody, his goggles smashed.

  "Hell." George was wary of moving him in case he'd injured his neck. He dug away the snow so he could assess the man's condition. Taking off his backpack, he pulled out some surgical scissors and snipped the elastic on the cracked plastic goggles. The doctor's face was cut and bruised, with a nasty bump forming on his forehead.

  "Bennett, can you hear me? James Bennett. James." The man was out cold. George felt for a pulse and found it strong. The movement of his chest showed he was breathing. He backed out of the snowy hollow to signal to the others, and discovered they were already sidestepping up the hill on their skis and not far away.

  George waded through the snow back to Bennett and finished digging him out, revealing his feet. One ski had come off, and George released the other. Miraculously, he didn't appear to have broken any limbs. But he was still unconscious, and that was worrisome.

  The sergeant crawled into the snow hole and pulled up his goggles, his face a pale, tense mask of concern. He was right to look worried. To lose one of his doctors to needless injury during a training exercise showed poor leadership.

  "How badly hurt is he?"

  "We won't know until we get him back to the field hospital."

  "Good thing you were with him, sir." A note of respect had crept into his voice.

  George pressed his lips together and didn't answer; he might say something he'd regret. After all, he was still on the bottom rung of the ladder in the Royal Army Medical Corps. But not for long. One day he'd be in a position to make sure this sort of interdisciplinary nonsense was not tolerated.

  Two medical technicians arrived with a stretcher from the helicopter. They fitted a neck brace in case Bennett had spinal injuries, then strapped him on the stretcher and carried him down. George climbed in the helicopter with his patient, checking his pulse and breathing again, keeping him under observation.

  The helicopter took off, the engine roaring, the floor vibrating. George hung on to his seat as they angled around and headed back, taking a few minutes to travel the twenty miles it had taken them three days to walk.

  As they landed, Bennett opened his eyes and blinked, obviously disoriented. George kneeled at his side. "You lost consciousness. We're back at the field hospital. We'll have you inside in a few minutes."

  Surgeon Commander Graham joined them as George watched the medics transfer Bennett to a bed in the field hospital tent.

  "What happened?"

  "He hit a tree, sir." Later, over a glass of whiskey, he'd explain t
he accident in more detail. "Vitals are normal and I don't think he has any broken bones. He was unconscious for nearly thirty minutes, but I can't see any evidence of major head trauma."

  "I'll take a look." Alex Graham was a neurosurgeon, so George stepped back and gave him room to examine Bennett's head and neck.

  Later, when Bennett was pronounced comfortable and recovering, Alex beckoned George into the small tent that served as his office. He grabbed a sheaf of letters from his desk, sorted through them, and handed a bunch to George. "You've got more mail than the rest of the team put together. I gather you have an eager girlfriend at home."

  "She's my fiancée, actually. You met her at Rob's wedding."

  "I remember. The girl with the glasses. Congratulations on your engagement."

  George leafed through the letters, checking the postmarks. He hadn't received any for a couple of weeks, and it looked as though they'd been held up somewhere.

  He went to the mess tent and poured himself a cup of coffee from the machine, grabbed a bar of chocolate, and sat down in one of the folding canvas chairs to enjoy catching up with what Sandra had been doing.

  He opened the oldest letter first and unfolded the pages.

  My darling George. I have some exciting news, or at least I hope you'll be as excited about it as I am. I'm pregnant!

  The rest of the words blurred as the cup of hot coffee slipped from George's fingers and splashed on his leg.

  He bolted upright in his seat, gripped the letter in both hands, and reread the first paragraph to be certain he hadn't imagined it. Sandra was pregnant.

  Shock wiped his mind for a moment, then thoughts of Sandra raced back, her lying in his arms, her slender body and flat abdomen. Now his baby was growing inside her.

  He pressed a hand over his mouth, his emotions swinging all over the place, a flash of excitement followed by a burn of regret. This was going to interfere with her career, and he knew how important that was to her. It was his fault for being so impulsive and letting passion run away with him after he gave her the engagement ring.

  Yet she didn't sound upset. Pulse racing, George leaned back in the chair and read the whole letter. Then he ripped open another and another, devouring Sandra's words as she described her visit to the doctor, her parents' reaction, and her growing excitement at the prospect of becoming a mother.

  Sandra didn't once mention her career. All she wrote about was the baby, and her mother's plans for them to marry at the local church when he returned home. George's tension gradually eased and a smile stretched his lips until he was grinning like an idiot. He was going to be a husband and a father!

  The thought tingled through him, lighting him up inside as though the sun had risen just for him. He had always planned to have children sometime. Now it was a reality. Images raced through his mind—Sandra cradling a newborn baby to her breast, a toddler holding his hand, a little boy kicking a ball around with him, a little boy on a bicycle. But the baby might be a girl, of course, a little girl with Sandra's hazel eyes.

  He dug in his pocket and pulled out the photograph of them together from the station photo booth, now crumpled and stained. That photograph had gone everywhere with him, even on the grueling cross-country ski.

  In a few weeks this beautiful woman would become his wife. Everything was happening so fast, but this was a good thing. He would never again have to worry she might leave him.

  • • •

  A herd of lazy New Forest ponies wandered onto the road and stopped, tails swishing at flies. Tiny newborn foals hugged their mother's sides, long legged and gangly. George eased off the accelerator of his sports car. The vehicle drifted to a halt on the quiet strip of asphalt dissecting the colorful heath.

  It was unseasonably warm for the end of March, and he'd lowered the convertible's top to let in the sun. A bee buzzed past his ear as the ponies stared at him with their large brown eyes. The lush green English countryside seemed like a dream after spending so long in cold, snowy conditions.

  Another car approached from the opposite direction and prompted the ponies to amble away among the bushes.

  George drove on, excitement zipping along his nerves as he entered the village where Sandra lived. He'd flown back from Norway yesterday and landed at Royal Naval Air Station Yeovilton in Somerset, then caught a train to London, and spent the night at his parents' house. He'd wanted to come directly to Sandra's, but he had to break the news of the baby to his parents first. Sandra had told them about the wedding, but not the reason for the hurry.

  He'd been concerned his mother might not take the news well. She was sensitive about her reputation and social standing. Her ecstatic response on discovering she would soon be a grandmother had been a relief.

  At the sight of the red post box, George's heart leaped and pounded. He swung the Triumph down the narrow track to Sandra's home, weaving between the potholes.

  He pulled up beside a small white car that must belong to Mrs. Fisher. Nestled in the woodland clearing, Pine Cone Cottage was surrounded with a carpet of yellow primroses. Pots overflowing with tulips and daffodils flanked the front door, and trailers of greenery covered with tiny pink flowers clad the wall and crept onto the thatched roof.

  Even though he'd only visited once before, the cottage felt homey and welcoming. He could see why Sandra loved the place.

  Tense with anticipation and a hint of trepidation, George consciously slowed his breathing to calm himself, before pushing open his door. The three months they'd been apart felt like a long time.

  As he headed for the cottage, he patted the back pocket of his jeans that contained his wallet and the precious photos of Sandra. He loved her as much as the day he'd left, but how would she feel when she saw him again?

  The front door burst open and Sandra dashed out. He barely had time to take in her long flowing hair, bright smile, and pretty hazel eyes glowing with excitement, before she jumped into his arms.

  "Oh, George. I can't believe you're here."

  Any doubts faded as he gathered her slender body in his arms and lifted her off the ground to kiss her. As their lips met, the months apart were forgotten as if they'd never happened. He met her grin with one of his own as he set her on her feet.

  "Where are your glasses?"

  "I'm wearing contact lenses. They've brought out new soft ones that are more comfortable."

  "You look gorgeous, darling." He pulled her close and kissed her again, smiling against her lips. After a long, heated kiss, he eased back before things got out of control.

  With a strange sense of wonder tingling through him, he spread his palm on her abdomen. "It's hard to believe our baby's in here." Although he was a doctor and knew how these things worked, it seemed like a miracle…a wonderful miracle.

  "It's only thirteen weeks. I've not started to show yet."

  "I'm looking forward to seeing you with a round belly." His protective feelings grew at the thought.

  She laughed and laid her head on his chest, hugging him so tightly he could barely breathe.

  "I'm glad we'll be married before the pregnancy shows."

  He stroked back her hair and pressed his lips to the soft skin below her ear, inhaling her dusky floral fragrance. "I can't believe the wedding's in two weeks." Everything seemed to be happening so fast.

  "Hello, George. Lovely to see you again."

  George straightened as Mrs. Fisher came out. He'd been slightly worried about seeing Sandra's parents. After all, he'd gotten their daughter into trouble. Mrs. Fisher's smile as she hugged him was reassuring. "You're welcome to stay for as long as you like. Come on in. I'll make us all a cup of tea."

  She stepped inside. Sandra linked her arm through his and he ducked under the low door frame as they followed.

  "I've bought a double bed for my room," Sandra said. "Now I've finished my stint in general medicine in London, I'll stay here until after the wedding, and you can stay, too."

  "Your parents don't mind me sleeping with you?"
<
br />   "Mum said there's no point in trying to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted. Anyway, we'll be married in two weeks."

  George paused in the hallway and drew her into his arms. Eyes closed, he pressed his lips to hers, a whirlwind of need racing through him. Being apart for so long had major drawbacks that he hadn't considered before he met Sandra. "What I really want to do right now is go upstairs and try out your new double bed," he whispered.

  "Mmm." Sandra cuddled against him, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt.

  At the top of his priority list was finding them a home of their own where they could have some privacy.