5. Ryan
CHAPTER 5
Ryan
‘ R yan, dear, I’m sorry to bother you when you must be busy.’ Lilac uses the remote control for the bed to raise her head, adjusting her position so that she’s sitting up.
If only she knew what she’d just interrupted. With her uninjured arm, Lilac fusses about in an oversized leather bag one of the locals must’ve dropped in. It hasn’t taken long for word to get around about her accident and hospital stay. When I go to help, she slaps my hand away. ‘I can do it. I’m not an invalid.’
I bite my tongue as she pulls out a manilla folder chock-full of papers. One slips out and flutters to the floor. When I reach down to pick it up, I notice it’s sheet music for ‘Away in a Manger’. I flinch like it’s a poisonous snake about to strike.
‘It’s not going to hurt you, dear.’ Lilac’s tone is matter-of-fact.
In the short time I’ve been in Point Perry, I’ve come to realise she doesn’t beat around the bush.
‘In fact, it might do you good. If you plan on staying in town for longer than the last few locums and nurses, like we all hope you do, being involved in the community is a way of life. You don’t want to get on the wrong side of the locals now, do you? Tongues are probably already wagging about your anti-Christmas antics.’
Is Scarlett considered a local? I sure as hell have managed to get on her wrong side. Serves me right for being an arse. And I’m more than happy to be involved in the community, join the volunteer firefighters, play footy and cricket, and deliver meals to those who need them—I just want nothing to do with Christmas. I have my limits, and Christmas is a hard no.
Sheet music in hand, I meet Lilac’s eyes. There’s a glint in them, which is a good sign. My eyes flick to the monitors beside her bed—all good and stable. The bag of saline is nearly finished, and the colour’s returned to her face. But a horrible bruise is spreading around her temple and eye. She’s going to look a bit worse for wear for a while to come.
I hand the sheet back to her, but she doesn’t take it, so I leave it on the bed. ‘How’s your pain?’ I feel her fingers. ‘Can you wiggle these for me?’
‘Don’t you go changing the subject with me, young man. I might be old, but I’m not blind.’ She hands me another piece of paper from the folder. ‘My pain is fine, and when can I go home?’
I check over her chart in the folder, skimming through her obs and notes. ‘Well, I’m thinking Doctor Cruickshank will want you to stay for another day to keep an eye on that nasty bruise around your eye and to make sure you’re comfortable with your arm. He’ll be here for rounds later. He was called out for a home visit.’
‘Oh, hope it wasn’t anything serious. And don’t be silly wasting his time. Now the shock’s worn off, I feel fine.’ She makes to swing a leg over the edge of the bed and promptly slumps back against the mattress. ‘Just a bit dizzy.’
‘Okay, Lilac, let’s get you comfy again.’ I slip my hand under her leg, lift it back on the mattress and pull up the blanket.
‘I think I do need to stay put. Maybe just for tonight, anyway.’ Her eyes flutter closed, and her shoulders slouch for a moment. It’s like she’s thinking, pondering what needs to be done. When they open again, that sparkle is back, and she slips a piece of paper into my hand. ‘I have a job for you, then.’
When I unfold it, I’m greeted with a very shaky, hand-drawn mud map of Point Perry and some of the outer roads, which I’ve yet to discover. When did she have time to draw this? I only left her fifteen minutes ago.
On the map, she’s circled the hardware store, the town hall (with a note saying choir practice) and the nursing home (with a note saying choir). The council office (with a note saying: Cr Giles) and jetty, with squiggles that resemble lights and a tree and little squares with ‘market’ written next to them. She’s drawn a line indicating farther out of town, and at the end of a windy road, she’s drawn a star with ‘Reynolds’ scribbled inside.
No, she is not sending me there. Lilac’s eyebrows flicker up and down, teasing me. I can’t—go there, that is. But a conceding sigh leaves my lips. ‘Lilac, what’s this map for?’
Although I already know, I have a ridiculous soft spot for Lilac, and I haven’t been able to say no to her yet.
‘Well, as you know, I’m the coordinator of the Christmas choir, and the Lighting of the Jetty and the Christmas markets are in a few days. Because I’m stuck in here, I can’t coordinate things, but I need feet on the ground, so to speak … oh, and two working arms.’
‘And …’ I raise my eyebrows. ‘You want me to …?’
‘For a good-looking nurse, you sure are daft. I might’ve been a bit woozy at the petrol station, but I saw how you looked at young Scarlett. And then Greta—you know her from the café? Gossiping Greta? She brought my bag in—said Scarlett’s only home for a week or so, and you’ve been looking a bit lonely, so maybe you could—what do the young ones say?—hook up.’ She waggles her eyebrows. ‘Give yourself a bit of festive cheer. Spend some time with her and have some fun. She might even show you around. There are lots of lovely places to visit you might not have had a chance to see yet.’
The scheming—‘What exactly are you asking me to do?’ I have no intention of spending any more time than necessary with Scarlett, especially not after her outburst just now. And especially not while she’s all Christmassy cheer and jingle in my face. I’ll be staying as far away as possible from that.
‘Take this map and folder, follow this red line—which is a road if you haven’t gathered—until you get to the star. It’s the Reynolds’ farm. That’s where you’ll find Scarlett. She needs this folder for the choir. Tell her to call me tomorrow or drop in, and I’ll talk her through what needs to be done.’
My stubbornness kicks in and as much as I adore Lilac, she’s pushing the boundaries. The last thing I need is another confrontation with the spritely Christmas elf and her singing hat. I look Lilac dead in the eyes. ‘No can do. I’m rostered on late. And she told me she was coming in to see you tomorrow anyway. Which will be perfect. Then you can chat as much as you want for as long as you want.’
Lilac reaches over and presses the call button.
‘Coming!’ Barb bustles down the corridor, her shoes squeaking on the lino floor, and bursts into the room. ‘Everything okay? You press the buzzer, Ryan?’
‘No.’ My answer comes out gruffer than intended. ‘I mean, yes, everything is alright, and no, I didn’t press the buzzer.’
‘I did.’ Lilac smirks. ‘Barb, will it be okay if Ryan finishes up early tonight to run an errand for me? All in the name of community?’
Barb glances at her watch before her eyes meet Lilac’s; she gives her a smile filled with understanding. ‘I can’t see why not unless we get an emergency. Tessa and Bev are here, too. Just make sure your phone is on. I’ll call if needed.’
Lilac’s smile is as sweet as pie. ‘Well, perfect. Here.’
The folder is all but thrown at me. I cautiously raise my hands as if the paper is ablaze and instinctively step back. Nope, not happening. Lilac pokes me in the stomach with the end of the full-to-the-brim folder, and I retreat further. ‘Lilac, she doesn’t want to see me. We had a run-in just a while ago. The last thing she wants is for me to rock up on her doorstep.’
‘But you only just met. What could you have possibly done in this short time to piss her off? Sorry about my cussing.’
‘I’ll leave you two to finish chatting.’ Barb about turns and squeaks back to the reception desk.
‘We …’ I scratch the back of my head. Is Lilac as gossipy as Gossiping Greta? Is it worth the risk to get her off my case? Let’s roll the dice and see. ‘We have a past, Lilac. We know each other, but she didn’t remember me today at the servo, and then she had a go at me for forgetting her and she stormed off. So, that’s why I don’t want to drive all the way out there and see her.’
‘Well, young man, I may never have been married in my eighty-odd years, but I know a thing or two, and this’—she shakes the damn folder at me again—‘is the answer. You need to sort it out, and this is the perfect way.’
I reluctantly step forward and snatch said folder.
‘You can thank me later.’ She winks.
I sigh, thank her, say my goodbyes and head down the corridor towards the break room to get my things out of my locker. When I swing open the break-room door, the damn Christmas tree greets me—seems someone’s moved it back to its prime position.
As I leave the hospital, ‘The First Noel’ plays overhead, and I grit my teeth.
I know it’s unlikely, but I wonder if Scarlett’s somehow responsible for this.